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IN SISTER'S CARE. 










JkL 

<& 





T 



Copyright by Scribner & Co., 1877. 


Fress of Francis Hart & Co. 
New-York. 


BABY DAYS 


FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS. 

SELECTED FROM 

ST. NICHOLAS, 

Scribner’s Illustrated Magazine for Boys and Girls. 





INTRODUCTION. 


By the Editor of St. Nicholas. 


TO THE BABIES. 

Not little bits of babies. Oh, 

Not little, little ones — Oh, no ! 

But babies just about your size, 

Real girls and boys with opened eyes ; 

Girls who have babies of their own — 

Dollies the sweetest ever known ! — 

And boys in trowsers or in frocks 
Who don’t mind falls and bumps and knocks. 
Yes, boys and girls who ’ve looked about, 
Who like to laugh, and dare to shout, 

Who know a horsey from a cat, 

(You do? Oh, yes, I ’m sure of that!) ; 
Well, just such little ones as you 
Will like this book and read it through. 

If you can t read, — then there ’s mamma, 

Or Jack or Kate, or dear papa, — 

While you the pretty pictures seek, 

They ’ll make the printed pages speak 
And tell you all you wish to know, — 

Why this and that are so and so. 

You ’ll hear the doggies bark — “bow-wow ! ” 
The donkeys bray, the kitties me-ouw, 


VI 11 


INTRODUCTION. 


Horses will leap, and children run, 

And everything be full of fun — 

For all the world with gladness plays, 
When we are in our baby days. 

We great big folks who love you so, 
Were little once, ourselves, you know ; 
And you and we, by blessed right, 

Are children in our Father’s sight. 

The world is God’s own picture book ; 
He turns the pages while we look. 

We read the stories, sing the songs, 
And take what most to us belongs, 
And spend our life-time just to know 
Why this and that are so and so. 

God bless us all, through all our ways, 
And guide us in our baby days ! 





TABLE OF CONTENTS. 


Fred’s Basket i 

Dash and Grey 2 

A Zebra and its Baby 3 

Major 4 

A Mother-Horse and her Three Colts 4 

Major. (Illustration) 5 

My Pet Lamb 6 

Red-Top Seeing the World 8 

A Little Girl of the Olden Time 9 

The Cunning Little Lamb 10 

POMPEY AND THE FLY 12 

The Mouse and the Bumble-Bee 13 

The Japanese Mamma and Baby 14 

How the Stranger Bought a Cow for Two Hens 14 

Ride a Cock-Horse 16 

Doctor Willie 17 

Froggy Boggy 18 

Cinderella 19 

The Story of the Little Red Hen 20 

When the Moon is Shining Brightly 21 

The Life of a Little Green Frog 22 

The Willow-Whistle 24 

The Kind Little Girl 26 

There’s a Ship on the Sea... 27 

Marmosets 28 

Good Old Sam 29 

The Fate of a Ginger-Bread Man 30 


Xll 


TABLE OF CONTENTS 


Grandmother 

Bertie 

Noddy 

Stars and Daisies 

-?6 

Breakfast-Time 

The Transformed Stockings 

Hello ^ 

The Old Hen and Her Family 

A Story of a Brave Donkey 4 ° 

A Brave Donkey 4 1 

The Ride to School 4 2 

I Gave my Puss a Mac-a-roon 43 

Kittikin and the Looking-Glass 44 

An Alphabet from England 46 

The Black Horse Bob 50 

The Mouse Who Lost Her Tail 51 

The Hare and the Frogs 52 

“ Good-Morning ! ” 53 

The Lion 54 

The Wonderful Puppies 56 

Little Joe Clacket 57 

The Adopted Chicken 58 

Old Y ellowfoot 59 

Two Kittens 60 

The Naughty Doll 61 

Mamie’s Lecture 62 

Room for One More 62 

Tommy’s Wooden Horse 63 

Little Sambo 63 

What Robby Saw 64 

The Ginger-Bread Boy 66 

Toby 6s 

The Mouse’s Mistake yo 

Going to London 

The Bumble-Bee 71 

Little Tommy Tucker 71 


TABLE OF CONSENTS. Xlll 


Jim and the Water-Melon 72 

The Little Frog that was Fed on Nothing but Pennies 72 

The Little Dog with the Green Tail 74 

Winding the Clock 77 

Fluffy and Snuffy 78 

Summer 79 

At the Menagerie 80 

Dear Old Robinson Crusoe 81 

The Frogs’ Picnic 82 

Broken Toys 84 

A Million Little Diamonds 86 

A Black-nosed Kitten 86 

An Old Folks’ Concert 86 

Gulliver and the Little Men 87 

Little Dutch Gretchen 88 

Little Peeky-Wang-Foo 89 

Hans, The Small Esquimaux 90 

Little Julia Ap-Jones ' 91 

Petite Marie Martin 92 

Little Tradja of Norway 93 

Little Biddy O’Toole 94 

Toto and Gretel 95 

How Tommy Came Home 96 

Tommy 97 

The Strawberry Girl 98 

Wee Little House with the Golden Thatch 99 

The Moon Came Late 99 

About Two Little Boys 100 

What May Happen 101 

Three Little Dogs 

Children of the Week 104 

There Was an Old Woman 105 

Brave Tim, The Centennial Cat 106 

The Robin’s Visit no 

What My Little Brother Thinks hi 

What the Parrot Taught the Little Girl 114 


Xiv TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

Pecky 1x5 

Ten Little Gentlemen ri 6 

Tony’s First Stilts I1 7 

Four Years Old 118 

A Pretty Sure Shot 120 

The Laughing Duck 121 

Grandpapa’s New Slipper 122 

Oh ! I’m my Mamma’s Lady Girl 123 

Jamie’s Rabbits 124 

The Bee and the Butterfly 126 

Tommy Hopper’s Choice 127 

What Might Happen 129 

The Bell-Ringers 130 

My Uncle Jehoshaph at 132 

“She Puts It in Its Little Bed” 133 

The Cry-Baby 134 

Bertha and the Birds 135 

The Little Gentle Birds 136 

The Flock of Doves 137 

Tony’s Letter 138 

John Bottlejohn 140 

The Cat and Dog Resolved to be Good 140 

Grandma’s Nap 142 

Freddy 144 

Very Useful and Very Slim 143 

The Cheated Mosquitoes 146 

A Little Girl Quite Well and Hearty ...147 

Birdie’s Secret I4 y 

Little Goo-Goo ^8 

Little Peri-Winkle 

A Short-Lived Family 30 

The House that Jack Built r ,. 2 

Going to the Sea-Shore 

Which is Caught 

Old Simon 

Busy Saturday I ^ Q 


TABLE OF CONTENTS. XV 


Taking Comfort 161 

Pretty Lill of Littleton i6 2 

Jemima Brown 163 

Little Boy Blue 163 

The Mouse 164 

The Pump and the Star 165 

The Owl, The Eel, and The Warming-Pan 166 

Punkydoodle and Jollapin 1 66 

As Good as a Mother 168 

Little . Gustava 169 

Little Peery 170 

Never a Night so Dark and Drear 172 

Fairy Umbrellas 172 

Is n’t it So? 173 

At the Sea-side 173 

Milmy-Melmy 174 

Totty’s Arithmetic 177 

The Sleeping Bloodhound 177 

How Much Did You Get for a Penny 178 

Two Little Girls are Better than One 178 

Cherry Cheek 179 

The Little Girl who Would n’t Say Please 180 

Two Little Birds Once Met In a Tree 181 

The Trio 181 

A New Regulation ..182 

Make Believe 182 

Little Johnny and the Mosquito 183 

March 183 

An Autumn Jingle 184 

The Rabbit on the Wall 184 

Mistress Mary, Quite Contrary 185 

Five Little Bald-Heads 185 

Our Dogs 186 

Nikolina 188 

A Lullaby 189 

Music 190, 191, 192 




Baby Days. 


FRED’S BASKET. 


“You can’t guess 
what I have in my bas- 
ket,” said Fred. “Oh, 
do tell us,” cried Fan, ' 

“and I will show you 
my nice ball.” 

Fred took the ball, 
and May gave him a 
hug, which made his 
hat fall off. Then they took a peep, and what do 
you think they saw? Why, two little white 
mice, with pink ears. 



DASH AND GREY. 


DASH AND GREY. 



“ Oh, come, Bell,” 
said Kate, with a hop, 
skip, and jump; “come 
take a walk with me.” 

“Oh yes,” said Bell, 

“let us go,” and she too 
had to hop, skip, and 
jump, she was so glad. 

Down the lane they went, hand in hand, with 
a hop, skip, and jump, all in a lump, till they fell 
with a bump, just by a pump. But they were not 
hurt. Oh, dear no! not a bit! 

“Oh, look!” said Bell, “look at Dash, and old 

Grey ! Why, Grey must 


have told Dash that he 
was dry, oh so dry ! and 
see ! Dash has the rope 
fast. He looks up! he 
‘ Come to the 
pump, old Grey, 
and take all you 
want.’ I love Dash, 
don’t you ? ” 



A ZEBRA AND ITS BABY 


3 



A ZEBRA AND ITS BAB 




4 


MAJOR. 


MAJOR. 

I am Major. Come smooth my head and pull 
my ears. I wont bite. But don’t step on my tail 
or strike my black nose. II you do, I shall bark. 

Once a boy got on my back. Then he held 
fast by my ears, and said “Get up!” and away we 
went. It was such fun that he said “Ha! ha! 
ha!” and I said “Bow, wow-wow!” 



A MOTHER-HORSE AND HER THREE COLTS. 


MAJOR 


5 



MAJOR 





6 


MY PET LAMB. 






MY PET LAMB. 


When I was a small boy, I had a nice pet. An old sheep 
had died, and John brought her lamb to the house. It was 
cold, and he said it would die. So he 
gave it to me. 

I put the poor thing on the rug by 
the fire. I gave it some warm milk 
with a spoon. It 
drank some of the 
milk, and soon it 

got up on its feet and said, “Ma! ma!” 
It was sad to hear it cry so, when the old 
sheep could not come. 

At last it got quite well, and would 
run and play with me. Then it drank 
milk out of a dish. And soon it would eat grass in the 
yard. I had some fine games with my dear pet. I would 
run and hide, and wait for it to find me. Once I went to 
hide by a bank, and fell down a steep place. It was a deep 
ditch, and I could not get out. But the lamb came to find 
me, and stood by the ditch, and cried, 
“ Baa ! baa ! ” I think it meant to call 
John. I cried too. Then John came 
and took me out. 

When it was quite 
small, it would butt 
me with its head. It was in play ; and 
I thought it great fun. I would get 
down on my hands and knees, and butt 
with ^t. 

But as it grew large, it got to butt quite hard. “ Don’t 
do so!” I would say ; but it did not know it hurt me. So 



MY PET LAMB. 


7 



when it came to butt me, I would put down my head, and 
let it butt over me. But once, when I went to do so, a 
blade of grass tickled my nose. That made me lift my 
head, and the 
lamb hit me a 
hard blow. 

Then I found 
I had taught 
him a bad trick. 

He would run 
at the boys and 
girls who came 
to the yard, and 
scare and hurt 
them. It was 
fun to him, but 
it was not fun 
to them ! 

So he grew 
to be a big ram, 
and we called 
his name Dan. 

He was not a 


nice pet any 
more, for he 
would run at all of us, if we came near. So one day we 
thought we would play him a trick. It was this: 

We took some of John’s old clothes and stuffed them out 
with straw; we set them up on sticks, and put a big hat on top. 

When he saw the thing, he thought it was some queer old 
man ; so he ran at it with all his might. 

At last Dan got so bad he had to be sold. If you have a pet 
lamb, do not teach him to butt; he will turn out bad if you do. 


8 


RED-TOP SEEING THE WORLD. 


RED-TOP SEEING THE WORLD. 

“ Peep ! peep ! ” cried poor little Red-top. “ I ran away 
from my mamma, and now I am lost — peep ! p-e-e-p! 
What shall I do ? 

“And — peep, p-e-e-p ! — a bad boy came at me with a 
stick, to kill me all dead ; and I had to squeeze through 
such a small hole in a fence ! A brown toad lived there. 
He tried to bite my nose off, but he could not find it — 
peep, peep ! And — peep, peep! — a dog, who had a long 
tail, made fun of mine. He said, c Bow, wow, wow ! what 
a tail ! why, it ’s no tail at all ! ’ — peep, p-e-e-p ! 



“Then I ran up here, where I can see the whole world. 
Dear me, how big it is ! I am so cold, and I want to eat 
a worm ! My mamma knows how to scratch for them — I 
don t. Oh! where is she? — peep! Mamma, mam-ma — 
peep ! Oh, if I could find her, I would never, never run 
away again — peep ! p-e-e-e-e-p ! ” 

i 


A LITTLE GIRL OF THE OLDEN TIME 


9 



A LITTLE GIRL OF THE OLDEN TIME. 







IO THE CUNNING LITTLE LAMB. 


THE CUNNING LITTLE LAMB THAT KNEW 
ALL ABOUT IT. 



DUTCH KASSY. 


THE CUNNING LITTLE LAMB. 


“ Oh, see that girl and snow-white lamb!” 

Said pretty Kassy Carr. 

“ Dear little girl, what is your name ? ” 

The lammie answered, “ Ba-a ! ” 

“Your head and tiny feet are bare,” 

Said pretty Kassy Carr ; 

“ Come, tell me, did you run away ? ” 

The lammie answered, “ Ba-a ! ” 

“ I came to see you,” said the child ; 

“ I ’m little Eva Starr ; 

And lammie would not stay behind.” 
Said lammie, nodding, “ Ba-a ! ” 

“ Look ! mother there is picking beans,” 
Said pretty Kassy Carr ; 

“ Come in — she ’ll give the lammie some.” 
Said lammie, frisking, “Ba-a!” 

“ And father, he is cutting grass,” 

Said pretty Kassy Carr ; 

“Would lammie like to roll in it?” 

Said lammie, skipping, “ Ba-a ! ” 

Then Eva, running through the gate, 
Kissed pretty Kassy Carr ; 

And nodding, frisking, skipping, went 
The lammie, saying, “ Ba-a I” 


12 


POMPEY AND THE FLY. 


POMPEY AND THE FLY. 


“ I wonder,” thought Pompey, the dog, “ what that fly 
will do when he gets to the top of that board ? Will he 
jump off*, or fly off, or just stop ? What a lot of legs he has ! 
Or, perhaps they are arms. He has too many for such a lit- 
tle fellow. I am glad I am not a fly.” And the fly, who- 



THE MOUSE AND THE BUMBLE-BEE. 


13 


was looking backward at Pompey, thought to itself, “I won- 
der why that dog is sitting there so still ? Why does he not 
climb up a board ? I am glad I am not a dog.” 


THE MOUSE AND THE BUMBLE-BEE. 

There was once a bumble-bee who used to go every day 
to gather honey, and as he was the most of the time away 
from home, he could not keep his house neat and tidy. So 
he got a motherly-looking old mouse to keep house for him. 
The next day, after the mouse had finished her morning’s 
work, and was out of doors to get a breath of fresh air, a 
mud-dauber came along. He said, ££ Good morning, Mrs. 
Mouse ! What are you doing here ? ” 

She answered, “ I am keeping house for Mr. Bumble-bee.” 

“ Can I come and live with you ? ” said the mud-dauber. 

££ Oh no !” she replied. ££ We cannot have anyone who 
daubs mud around the house.” So he went away. 

Then came a rat. ££ How are you, Mrs. Mouse ? ” said he. 
££ I would like to live with you.” 

££ No, Mr. Rat, you cannot,” said the mouse, ££ for you 
will eat our cheese and gnaw our table-cloths.” So the rat 
went away. 

He had just gone, when a large grey hen came along. She 
also asked the mouse if she might live with her. 

The mouse said, £k What can you do, old hen ? ” 

The hen said she could lay a fresh egg every day. So the 
mouse told her she might stay. The hen soon found some 
straw and laid an egg. The mouse went to a neighbor’s 
house and got some cheese. Just then, the bumble-bee came 
home with some honey. So they had a fresh egg, some 
cheese and honey for dinner, and they were all well pleased. 


14 


THE JAPANESE MAMMA AND BABY. 


THE JAPANESE MAMMA AND BABY. 

This is the way they carry the baby in Japan. The 
mother, or older sister, or nurse, holds him on her back, or 
ties him on with straps. They call him “ ko,” which means 



child or baby. Is n’t he fat ? 
Almost all the Japanese babies 
are fat and rosy. Somebody 
has called Japan the Paradise 
of Babies. Do you see how 
his hair is cut ? His little head 
is shaved in front, except one 
wide lock, which is “ banged.” 
His eyes are looking right at 
you. He seems to think : 
“ Why, what a funny-looking 
baby you are ! You ’re not a 
Japanese c ko,’ are you ?” 


HOW THE STRANGER BOUGHT A COW FOR 
TWO HENS. 

“Oh! oh! my old hens are dead,” cried old Mrs. Jolly- 
pole, “ and what shall I do ? I shall have no eggs to make 
custard, no eggs to boil for our supper.” 

Her little grandson Rey looked up and said, “ No eggs; 
but we’ll have bread and milk, and that’s good, gran’ma.” 

“Yes, but eggs are better,” said Grandma Jollypole, and 
then she put on her sun-bonnet, to carry some socks she 


A COW FOR TWO HENS. 


15 


had knitted to Deacon Dean’s wife. Little Rey sat in the 
door- way and watched for her return. A man came along 
with a wagon-load of hens and roosters in coops. 

“ Can you give me a drink?” said the driver to Rey. 

“ Yes, sir,” said Rey ; and he brought out a bowlful of 
milk. The man drank every drop of it, and then he asked, 

“ Well, what shall I give you for it? A penny ?” 

“ My gran’ma wants two hens, for hers are dead,” said 
Rey. “I’d like the hens ’stead of the penny, though gran’ma 
never takes anything.” 

“ Well,” said the man, “ I ’d give you two hens instead 
of the penny, but hens cost a good many pennies. What 
else could you give me for them beside the milk ? ” 



“Well,” said Rey, “there’s Whitey, the cow.” He 
pointed to a white cow eating grass by the wayside. “ I ’ll 
be solly to have her go away,” he said, “ because she eats out 
of my hand ; but gran’ma says eggs are better than milk.” 

The man laughed, and then set down a coop with two 
nice hens in it at Rey’s feet; and he said, “Let’s shake 
hands, little man, on our bargain.” 

Rey shook hands, and then he went and patted the cow. 


i6 


RIDE A COCK-HORSE. 


“Good-by, Whitey,” he said ; “ I like you better n eggs !” 

But the man had mounted his wagon. 

“ Wont you take her with you now?” asked Rey. 

“ I ’ll come back when I want her,” answered the man; 
and then he drove away. 

It was not long before old Mrs. Jollypole came home. 

“ Oh, see !” cried Rey. “A man gave me these two nice 
hens for the cow, and now you can have eggs, gran’ma ! ” 

“ What ! ” cried his grandma, ready to faint at the bad 
news. But the smiles came back to her face when she saw 
Whitey chewing her cud just back of the cottage. 

. “ He is coming for her when he wants her,” said Rey. 
But the man never came again. 



Rings on her fingers, 
And bells on her toes, 
She shall have music 
Wherever she goes. 


Ride a cock-horse 
To Banbury Cross, 
To see a fine lady 
Upon a white horse. 



DOCTOR WILLIE. 


1/ 



Just then her brother Willie came into the room. He 
wanted to play with somebody, and so he said : 

“ Oh, Susie ! Let us play that Dolly is sick, and that you 
are the mother and I am the doctor.” 

Susie was all smiles and delight in a minute. She patted 

3 


DOCTOR WILLIE. 


One rainy day, Susie was singing her doll to sleep. 
u There, darling ! ” she said, putting dolly in her cradle; 
“ now you are asleep, and your poor mamma can rest.” 



i8 


FROGGY-BOGGY. 


her doll, saying tenderly, “ Don’t cry, darling ; the doctor is 
coming to make you well.” 

Willie put on his papa’s coat, took out his toy- watch, and 
making his boots creak, walked up to Susie with : 

“ How do you do, Mrs. Brown ? ” 

“ How do you do, Doctor ?” said Susie. 

“ How is the baby to-day ? ” asked Doctor Willie. 

“ Very sick,” said its mother. 

“ Does she sleep at night ? ” said the doctor. 

“ No, never ! And she has only one arm.” 

cc Indeed ! ” said the doctor. “ Then it must be measles. 
Let me feel her pulse.” 

“ Would you like to feel her pulse in her other arm, too?” 
asked Susie. “ May be I can find it.” 

“ No,” this will do,” said the doctor. “ You must give 
her some peppermint and put her in a warm bath.” 

Susie jumped up to put some water on the stove to get 
warm, when just then the golden sunshine flashed out, and 
a great piece of blue sky appeared through a rift in the 
clouds. 

Dolly did not get the warm bath, but was put to sleep in- 
stead, while her little mamma and the doctor ran joyfully 
out, to play in the garden. 


Froggy boggy 
Tried to jump 
On a stone, 

And got a bump. 



It made his eyes 
Wink and frown 
And turned his nose 
Upside down. 


CINDERELLA. 


19 


CINDERELLA. 



Poor little Cinderella! Ask mamma to tell you about 
her. Her sisters have gone to the Prince’s ball ; but she is 
sitting all alone, tending the fire. Pretty soon something 
will happen that will make her very happy. A fairy will 
come and send her, in fine style, to the ball. 


20 


THE LITTLE RED HEN. 


THE STORY OF THE LITTLE RED HEN. 


- \/ 




About twenty-five years ago my mother told me the story 
of the little red hen. She told it often to me at that time ; 
but I have never heard it since. So I shall 
try to tell it to you now from memory : 

There was once a little red hen. She 
was scratching near the 
barn one day, when she 
found a grain of wheat. 

She said, “ Who will plant this wheat?” 
The rat said, “ I wont ;” the cat said, 
“ I wont;” the dog said, “ I wont;” the 
duck said, <c I wont;” and the pig said, “ I wont.” The 
little red hen said, “ I will, then.” So she planted the grain 
of wheat. After the wheat grew up and was ripe, the little 
red hen said, ££ Who will reap this wheat ? ” The rat said, 
“ I wont;” the cat said, “ I wont;” the dog said, ££ I wont ;” 
the duck said, ££ I wont ;” and the pig said, “ I wont.” The 
little red hen said, “I will, then.” So 
she reaped the wheat. Then she said, 

££ Who will take this wheat to mill to be 
ground into flour ?” The rat said, ££ I 
wont ;” the cat said, ££ I wont ;” the dog 
said, ££ I wont ; ” the 
duck said, ££ I wont:” and the pig said, ££ I 
wont.” The little red hen said, ££ I will, 
then.” So she took the wheat to mill. 
When she came back with the flour, she 
said, ££ Who will make this into bread?” 
The rat said, ££ I wont ;” the cat said, ££ I wont ;” the dog 
said, ££ I wont;” the duck said, ££ I wont ;” and the pig said, 


• Ml ;..| I . 




WHEN THE MOON IS SHINING BRIGHTLY. 


21 



“ I wont.” The little red hen said, “ I will, then.” So she 
made it into bread. Then she said, “Who will bake this 

bread ?” The rat said, “ I wont ;” the 
cat said, “ I wont;” the dog said, “ I 
wont;” the duck said, “I wont;” and 
the pig said, “I wont.” The little red 
hen said, “I will, then.” When the 
bread was baked, the 
little red hen said, “ Who will eat this 
bread?” The rat said, “I will;” the 
cat said, “I will;” the dog said, “I 
will;” the duck said, “I will;” and 
the pig said, “ I will.” The little red 
hen said, “No, you wont, for I am going to do that my- 
self.” And she picked up the bread and ran off with it. 




hen the moon is shining brightly, 
And the dew is on the ground, 
Then ’s the time, you know, that 
nightly, 

Cruel foxes are around. 

Oh, but how the mischief thickens 
When they prowl among the 
hens ! 

Sucking eggs and taking chickens 
To their damp and dismal dens. 


22 


THE LIFE OF A LITTLE GREEN FROG. 


THE LIFE OF A LITTLE GREEN FROG. 



When the clouds above are blue, 

Little frog in his bright green coat 
Comes up the ladder, clearing his throat, 
To greet the sun, “ How d’ye do?” 



When the clouds above are drear, 

And the rain makes the bright sun frown, 
Little frog on his ladder goes down, 

And waits till the sky is clear. 


THE LIFE OF A LITTLE GREEN FROG. 


2 3 


Little frog can sing a tune — 

He is proud of his voice, I think ; 

He sits and sings, while his dull eyes blink. 
As he serenades the moon. 



He likes tender things to eat — 

Quick little ants and butterflies ; 

He snaps them down, and he shuts his eyes, 
As if they tasted sweet. 



He sports all the summer through — 
Don’t you think Froggie’s life is play ? 
How will he live on a winter day ? 

He has no idea — have you ? 


24 


THE WILLOW WHISTLE 



“SOMETIMES THEY WILL BLOW AND SOMETIMES THEY WON’T,” SAID BEN. 


THE WILLOW WHISTLE. 

Little Susie, so pretty and sweet, was walking down the 
lane, singing her doll to sleep, and Frisky was marching be- 
hind, wagging his tail, when Ben came along with his basket 


THE WILLOW WHISTLE. 


25 


and cane. Ben was a poor little lame boy. His father and 
mother were dead. His old grandmother took care of him, 
and told him nice stories while she knitted stockings to sell. 
That was the right kind of a dear, good old grandma. 
Was n’t it ? 

Every day Susie’s mother filled Ben’s basket with bread, 
meat, and a little tea and sugar for his grandmother. 

“ Why, Ben,” cried Susie, “ is that you ? Don’t make a 
noise; my baby is going to sleep.” 

“ Why does n’t she shut her eyes ? ” asked Ben. 

“ She is just a little bad to-day,” said Susie, shaking her. 

“ Well, then, let ’s whistle her to sleep.” And Ben, tak- 
ing a willow whistle out of his pocket, blew a long note. 

“ Oh, how beautiful !” cried Susie. “ Do let me try.” 

“ I mean to give it to you, because you are good to my 
grandma,” said Ben. 

Oh, then, I wish you could have seen their happy faces, 
as Susie took the whistle with “ Thank you ever so much ! ” 
Then, putting her fingers on the sides and her mouth to the 
end, she blew ! and blew ! and blew ! but nothing came. 

“ I can’t make it whistle,” said Susie, almost ready to cry. 

“ Sometimes they will blow, and sometimes they won’t,” 
said Ben, kindly. “ Try again, Susie; don’t say you can’t.” 

Susie tried once more, and a low, sweet sound came out. 

“ It whistles ! it whistles ! ” she cried. 

In her joy she had turned dolly’s head down, and pop! 
her eyes went shut, and she was fast asleep ! 

“ There ! I told you so ! ” cried Ben, laughing. “ The 
way to get babies asleep is to whistle to them.” 

“ So it is,” said Susie. “ Dear little thing; she must be 
put in bed.” So they all went frisking into the house. 

Then Ben’s basket was filled, and he went singing home, 
Don’t you think he was a good, unselfish little boy ? I do. 


26 


THE KIND LITTLE GIRL. 


THE KIND LITTLE GIRL. 



Good little beggar-girl ! She is very poor, but she has a 
kind heart. Even the dogs know this, as soon as they look 
into her face; and when they are hungry, they say: “Come, 
let us go to that kind little girl, she will give us some bread.” 


THERE S A SHIP ON THE SEA, 


27 



There ’s a ship on the sea. It is sailing to-night — 
Sailing to-night; — 

And father ’s aboard, and the moon is all bright — 
Shining and bright. 

Dear Moon, he ’ll be sailing for many a night — 
Sailing from mother and me; 

Oh ! follow the ship with your silvery light, 

As father sails over the sea. 


28 


MARMOSETS. 


MARMOSETS. 



Marmosets are cunning little monkeys from South America, 
and are often very tame and gentle. These little creatures 
are of about the size of squirrels, but they have very old 
and wise faces. The two in our picture, which is copied 
from a beautiful painting by Sir Edward Landseer, do not 
seem to know what sort of an insect it is that has alighted 
on the leaves of the pine-apple. So they have jumped up to 
examine it. If they come too close, and get their noses 
pricked, they may find out more than they want to know. 


GOOD OLD SAM. 


2 9 


GOOD OLD SAM. 



“ Come, dear 
old Sam,” said 
Will, “you gave 
me a fine trot 
down the lane ; 
now I will give 
you as much to 
eat as you want.” 

Two big ears 
went up in the 
air at this ; for 
Sam was just as 
fond of oats and 
hay as you are 
of cake and pie. 

Then Mrs. Duck 
ran to the pond 
and said to Mr. 

Duck, “Oh, what 
a nice boy that 
is ! Sam was 
good to him, 
and now he, in 
his turn, is good 
to Sam. I want 
to be good too ; 
so I have come to tell you, that if we run, we may be in time 
to pick up all the nice bits that Sam lets fall.” 

Now just look at them all ! Sam, Will, and Mr. and Mrs. 
Duck! all kind and good! Will you try to be kind and 
good too ? I am sure you will. It is the best way to live. 


30 


THE FATE OF A GINGER-BREAD MAN. 


THE FATE OF A GINGER-BREAD MAN. 



Here ’s a nice brown ginger-bread man, 
Freshly baked in the baker’s pan, 

Spiced and sugared, and spick and span ; 
Cloves for his eyes and paste for his tie — 
Oh, what a nice sweet man to buy ! 

Here are Felix and Mary Ann 
Looking in at the ginger-bread man 
(Spiced and sugared, and spick and span, 
Cloves for his eyes and paste for his tie), 
Wondering whether the price is high. 

Here are Felix and Mary Ann 
Going home with the ginger-bread man 
That was baked in the baker’s pan. 

“Far too nice to be eaten,” they said ; 
“Keep the man for a dolly, instead.” 

Here behold the ginger-bread man, 

That was baked in the baker’s pan, 

In the doll-house of Mary Ann. 

See him stand, with his round, fat face, 
Among the dolls in silk and lace ! 

Here are Felix and Mary Ann 
Sleeping sound as ever they can, 

Dreaming about the ginger-bread man 
Left in the doll-house, set away, 

Till they wake in the morn to play. 



See this rat; since the night began 
He has prowled to get what he can. 
Ah, he smells the ginger-bread man ! 
There ’s the doll-house under the shelf, 
Just where the rat can climb himself! 


THE FATE OF A GINGER-BREAD MAN. 


3 1 



Every rat will get what he can. 

Ah, the poor, sweet ginger-bread man ! 
Wake, O Felix and Mary Ann ! 

There ’s a patter, a jump, a squeak — 

Ah, if the ginger-bread man could speak 1 



See the rat, as quick as he can, 
Climbing up for the ginger-bread man 
In the doll-house of Mary Ann ! 

Ah, if the ginger-bread man could run ! 
Oh, to see what the rat has done ! 



Here are Felix and Mary Ann 
Come to play with the ginger-bread man, 
Spiced and sugared, and spick and span. 
Ah, behold, where he stood before, 

Only crumbs on the doll-house floor! 



32 


GRANDMOTHER 



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GRANDMOTHER, 



BERTIE. 


33 


BERTIE. 



“I so awful bad! Santy Claus won’t come down the chim- 
ney one bit,” said little Bertie, and he began to cry. Bertie 
was not four years old, and he did not know 
just how to act. He had pulled the cat’s 
tail, and upset the milk-pan, and, oh, dear! 
worse than all, he had gone behind his 
grandma when she was bending over the 
fire, and said Boo! so loud that it made her 
jump, and drop her spectacles, pop! into the 
tea-kettle. So he sat down on the floor, with his old fur cap 
on, to think about it; for this was Christmas eve. 

But bless his heart ! Grandma loved him if he did say 
Boo ! at her. So did Mamma and Papa, and so did Pussy, 
and so did Santa Claus ! When it was bed-time for Bertie, 
he wanted Grandma to go to bed, too, though it was not 
dark, so that Santa Claus would be sure to come. Grandma 
put on a funny cap, and hid under the bed-clothes, and 
Bertie hung up his stocking before he said 
his prayers. Then he squeezed his eyes 
tight shut, and went to sleep. In the 
night Santa Claus came, and before he 
went, a candy cat, a top, a ball, an or- 
ange, a barking dog 
and a jumping Jack, 
all went softly into 
Bertie’s stocking, and 
waited for him to open 
his eyes. 

Oh, how glad he 
was when he woke in 
the morning! 



5 


34 


NODDY. 


NOT SUCH A NODDY AS HE LOOKED. 

He was a ragged little fellow, that donkey, with a shaggy 
head, great flapping ears, and a short, queer tail. His name 
was Noddy. One fine day, Noddy was in the lot, eat- 
ing clover, when Fred and Tom came out of the house, 
with three more young scamps, — their cousins, — who had 

just come to visit 
them. 

“ Now for a 
ride ! ” shouted 
Fred. 

“ Let ’s all get 
on his back at 
once,” said one 
of the cousins. 

“ Oh, yes ! oh, 
yes !” said the 
rest, in high glee. 

But before a 
finger could be 
laid on him, off 
he started, gal- 
loping round the 
lot in fine style. 
The boys chased 
him, and a grand 
race they had, 


and sprawling, darting and dodging,- until they came to a 
little hill. The donkey trotted up to the top, braying gladly. 


- whisking and 
frisking, falling 



NODDY. 


35 



“ It will never do to give it up so. Cousin Fred,” said little 
Archie. cc See ! his back is turned ; let ’s creep up softly.” 
Softly they went; 
and, in two min- 
utes more, they 
were around poor 
Noddy like a 
swarm of bees. 

Fred and Frank 
leaped upon his 
back, with shouts 
of delight. Fred 
sat with his legs 
stuck out ever 
so wide, while 
Frank held on to 
his waist. Lit- 
tle Archie pulled 
himself up be- 
hind them, using 
poor Noddy’s tail 
as a rope ; while 
Tom and Curtis, 
taking hold of 
the donkey’s ears, 
tried to pull themselves up over his head. But just then 
that sly old Noddy gave a great hee-haw ! hee-h-a-w ! down 
with his head; up with his heels; over went Tom and 
Curtis, topsy-turvy ; off flew Fred, Frank and Archie, and 
away they all rolled down to the bottom of the hill. As for 
Noddy, he laughed a donkey-laugh; and when the boys 
went away, he brayed them a very polite good-by. Not 
such a noddy, after all ! Was he ? 


36 


STARS AND DAISIES. 


STARS AND DAISIES. 


By Louis Munson. 


The stars are tiny daisies high, 

Opening and shutting in the sky; 

While daisies are the stars below, 
Twinkling and sparkling as they grow. 

The star-buds blossom in the night, 

And love the moon’s calm, tender light; 
But daisies bloom out in the day, 

And watch the strong sun on his way. 


\ 



BREAKFAST-TIME. 


THE TRANSFORMED STOCKINGS. 


37 


THE TRANSFORMED STOCKINGS. 


(A Poem in two parts , with Illustrations by the Poet.) 



Part I. 

CHRISTMAS EVE. 

Little children in their bed, 

Both their stockings on the wall ; 
Not a thought disturbs their dreams — 
That is, if they dream at all. 



Part II. 

CHRISTMAS MORNING. 

When the Christmas morning comes, 
Both the children bounce from bed : 

“Wh ee, ew!” 

That was all the children said. 



HELLO ! 


38 


THE OLD HEN AND HER FAMILY 


THE OLD HEN AND HER FAMILY. 



There was once a big- white hen who had twelve little chickens, and 
they were all just as good little chickens as ever you saw. Whatever 
their mother told them to do, they did. 


THE OLD IIEN AND HER FAMILY. 


39 


One day, this old hen took her children down to a small brook. It 
was a nice walk for them, and she believed the fresh air from the water 
would do them good. When they reached the brook, they walked along 
by the bank for a little while, and then the old hen thought that it looked 
much prettier on the other side, and that it would be a good thing for 
them to cross over. As she saw a large stone in the middle of the 
brook, she felt sure that it would be easy to jump on that stone and then 
to jump to the other side. So she jumped to the stone, and clucked 
for her children to follow her. But, for the first time in their lives, she 
found that they would not obey her. She clucked and flapped her wings 
and cried to them, in hen-talk : 

“Come here, all of you! Jump on this stone, as I did. Then we 
can go to the other side. Come now!” 

“Oh, mother, we can’t, we can’t, we can’t!” said all the little chickens. 

“ Yes, you can, if you try,” clucked the old hen. “Just flop your wings 
as I did, and you can jump over, easy enough.” 

“ I am a-flopping my wings,” said one little fellow, named Chippy, who 
stood by himself in front, “ but I can’t jump any better than I did before.” 

“ I never saw such children,” said the old hen. “You don’t try at all.” 

“ We can’t try, mother,” said the little chicks. “ We can’t jump so far. 
Indeed, we can’t, we can’t, we can’t, we can’t!” chirped the little chicks. 

“Well,” said the old hen, “I suppose I must give it up” — and so she 
jumped back from the stone to the shore, and walked slowly home, fol- 
lowed by all her family. 

“ Don’t you think mother was rather hard on us ? ” said one little chicken 
to another, as they were going home. 

“ Yes,” said the other little chick. “Asking us to jump so far as that, 
when we have n’t any wing-feathers yet, and scarcely any tails ! ” 

“ Well, I tried my best,” said Chippy. “ I flopped as well as I could.” 

“ I did n’t,” said one of the others. “ It ’s no use to try to flop when 
you ’ve got nothing to flop.” 

When they reached home, the old hen began to look about for some- 
thing to eat, and she soon found, close to the kitchen-door, a nice big 
piece of bread. So she clucked, and all the little chickens ran up to her, 
and each one of them tried to get a bite at the piece of bread. 

“ No, no !” cried the old hen. “This bread is not for all of you. It is 
for the only one of my children who really tried to jump to the stone. 
Come, Chippy ! you are the only one who flopped. This nice piece of 
bread is for you.” 


40 


A BRAVE DONKEY. 


A STORY OF A BRAVE DONKEY. 

Donkeys are almost always meek, quiet little fellows, who look as if 
they would stand any abuse or bad treatment, but sometimes they show 
that they have spirit enough. Of course there are bad donkeys, who will 
kick and behave wickedly at any time, like some boys and girls, so that 
it is a surprise to see them behave well. 

But the donkey I am going to tell you about was nearly always as 
quiet as he seems in the picture, putting his head over the fence to 
take a bite of tender grass. But he was very brave indeed, as you will 
see. He lived in a menagerie — which you know is a wild-beast show — 
in one of our Western cities. There were a great many savage beasts 
in this menagerie, and one day a fierce lioness broke out of her cage. 
She ran around to see who she could bite, and she met this donkey, who 
was allowed to go loose because he would not hurt anything. So she 
made a great jump at him and took hold of him with her teeth ; but the 
donkey was so quick and spirited that he got away from her. Then the 
lioness made another great spring upon him, but this time Mr. Donkey 
was ready for her. 

He turned his back to her, and, when she came near him, he gave 
her a great kick with both his hind-feet at once, and rolled her over like 
a ball. She came at him again and again, but every time his strong 
heels were ready for her, and every time the brave donkey kicked her 
over on her back. At last she had enough of Mr. Donkey’s kicks, and 
she ran away from him. She did not know before how well a brave 
donkey could fight. 

You have often heard about lions, which are so strong and courageous 
that they are called the kings of beasts, and perhaps you have seen some 
of them shut up in a cage when you have been taken to a wild beast 
show. But it is not likely that you thought that one of these great 
creatures could ever be conquered by a small donkey, who had nothing 
to fight with but his heels. 

But it often happens that animals, and people too, who are quiet and 
modest, are very brave indeed when a time comes when they ought to 
show courage. 

The lioness had to b^ shot, for her keepers could not get her back 
into her cage. If she had not been shot, I think she would have kept 
clear of donkeys the next time she got loose. 


A BRAVE DONKEY 


41 





THE BRAVE DONKEY. 








42 


THE RIDE TO SCHOOL 


THE RIDE TO SCHOOL. 

“ Thou shalt have a ride to school on my sled,” said Carl to his chub-by 
lit- tie sis-ter Ka-ren ; “ and Gretch-en and I will be the horses.” 



“ Oh, that is beau-ti-ful ! ” cried Ka-ren, with bright, beam-ing eyes ; 
and she danced a-round in her lit-tle red shoes. 

They were three Ger-man chil-dren who lived with their fath-er and 



I GAVE MY PUSS A MAC-A-ROON. 


43 


moth-er in the far a-way West-ern State of Min-ne-so-ta, where it is so 
cold in win-ter that the snow lasts a long - while. 

I hen Carl pulled his sled out of the barn, and Ka-ren was seat-ed in 
the mid-dle of it, with her lit-tle bask-et, which held three round cakes 
and a ro-sy ap-ple. Gretch-en pinned a large warm shawl o-ver her hood, 
put on her nice wool-en mit-tens, and, kiss-ing her sweet lit-tle face, said: 
“Look, how ro-sy she is;” and Ka-ren smiled back on her, say-ing : 
“Yes, that is fine, dear sis-ter.” 

Then Gretch-en put her lunch bask-et on the sled ; but Carl had his 
lunch in a nap-kin, which he slung o-ver his shoul-ders ; and, tuck-ing his 
trou-sers in-to his boots, a-way they all went, laugh-ing and sing-ing. 

The lit-tle rob-ins scratched in the snow, cry-ing “Tweet, tweet, we 
want some-thing to eat.” The pig-eons strutt-ed up and down the roofs 
of the hous-es, or flew a-way to the barn, say-ing, soft-ly, “ Coo, coo, coo, 
come to the barn, ver-y good eat-ing there — coo, coo, coo!” The pus-sy 
cat sneezed, and lift-ed her paws ver-y high, for she ha-ted the snow, and 
wished it were al ways sum-mer. 

But the lit-tle Ger-man chil-dren liked win-ter as well as sum-mer. 
They were the ver-y best chil-dren in school that day ; and, when school 
was o-ver, Carl and Gretch-en gave Ka-ren an-oth-er de-light-ful ride. 



I gave my puss a mac-a-roon, 

And bade her eat with a sil-ver spoon ; 
I brought a glass of spark-ling wine, 
And bade the pret-ty creat-ure dine. 

But see what came of it, a-lack ! 

That naught-y pus-sy turned her back ; 
Now was n’t it a dread-ful sight 
To see a puss so im-po-lite ? 


44 


KITTIKIN AND THE LOOKING-GLASS. 


WHAT KITTIKIN SAID TO THE KITTEN IN 
THE LOOKING-GLASS. 

Miaou ! What sort of a kitten do you call yourself, I wonder ! — and 
where are your manners, I should like to know ? Here have I been 
standing for a quarter of an hour, saying all the pretty things I can think 
of to you, and not so much as a purr can I get in reply. It is very rude, 
too, to mock me in that way, and imitate everything I do. My mother 
has always taught me to be polite to strangers ; but perhaps you have n’t 

any mother, poor thing ! and never learned any manners. It is a pity, 

for you are a good-looking kitten, — something like me, in fact, only not 
so pretty. Miss Jenny, my mistress, said yesterday that I was the pret- 
tiest kitten in the world — and of course she knows, for she goes to school 
and learns lessons out of a book. I thought awhile ago that I should 

like to go to school too,, and learn lessons. So one day I started to 

follow Miss Jenny up the lane ; but a great ugly monster of a dog barked 
at me, and frightened me out of my wits. So then I thought I would 
learn to read too ; and as all the reading is in books, I thought the best 
way would be to eat one. But before I had eaten half a leaf, Miss Jenny 
came in, and she took away the book and called me a naughty kitten, 
and mother boxed my ears and sent me to bed without any supper ; so 
after that I decided that reading was not good for kittens. 

Well, you strange cat ! — not a word from you yet ? Come now, do 
be good-natured and come out from behind that window. Such a grand 
frolic as we might have together ! My brother Tom was given away last 
week. He jumped up on the breakfast-table, and upset the cream-jug all 
over my mistress’s new dress ; and she said, “ That comes of having so 
many cats about ! One of them must go to-day ” — and so Tom went. 

Well, I cannot waste my time here any longer, for there is nothing to 
be got out of you but rudeness. I shall never come to see you again. 
And of all the ugly, rude, disagreeable kittens I ever saw 

There ! See what you ’ve done ! You made me so mad that I ’ve 
knocked over Miss Jenny’s beautiful blue and gold smelling-bottle, that 
her grandpapa gave her on Christmas ! 

There ! it has rolled off the dressing-table and broken into bits. Oh ! 
I ’m sure I ’ll get no supper to-night ; and — oh dear — what shall I do if 
mother boxes my ears again ! . . . Oh ! oh ! You ’ve knocked off 

your bottle, too ! My S wont you get whipped, though ! 


KITTIKIN AND THE LOOKING-GLASS 


45 





WELL, YOU STRANGE CAT !— NOT A WORD FROM YOU YET? 






46 


AN ALPHABET FROM ENGLAND. 


AN ALPHABET FROM ENGLAND. 
By Christina G. Rossetti. 



A is the Alphabet, A at its head ; 
A is an Antelope, agile to run. 


B is the Baker Boy bringing the bread, 

Or black Bear and brown Bear, both begging for bun. 

C is a Cornflower come with the corn ; 

C is a Cat with a comical look. 

D is a dinner which Dahlias adorn ; 

D is a Duchess who dines with a 

Duke. THE COMICAL CAT. 

E is an elegant, eloquent Earl ; 

E is an Egg whence an Eaglet emerges. 

F is a Falcon, with feathers to furl ; 

F is a Fountain of full foaming surges. 



THE ELOQUENT EARL. 



AN ALPHABET FROM ENGLAND. 


47 


Gr is the Gander, the Gosling, 
the Goose ; 

Gr is a Garnet in girdle of 
gold. 


THE GANDER, THE GOSLING, THE GOOSE. 

H is a Heartsease, harmonious of hues ; 
H is a huge Hammer, heavy to hold. 

I is an Idler who idles on ice ; 

X am I — who will say I am not I ? 

J is a Jacinth, a jewel of price; 

J is a Jay, full of joy in July. 


K is a King, or a Kaiser still 
higher ; 

K is a Kitten, or quaint Kang- 
aroo. A HAMMER heavy to hold. 

L is a Lute or a lovely-toned Lyre; 

L is a Lily all laden with dew. 

M is a Meadow where Meadow-sweet 
blows ; 

M is a Mountain made dim by a mist. 

N is a nut — in a nutshell it grows ; 
Or a Nest full of Nightingales singing 
— oh, list ! 

A JAY FULL OF JOY IN JULY. 







AN ALPHABET FROM ENGLAND. 




A PONY, A PET IN THE PARK. 


P is a Pony, a pet in a park ; 

P is the Point of a Pen or a Pin. 

Q is a Quail, quick chirping at morn ; 

Q is a Quince quite ripe and near dropping. 



A RED-BREASTED ROBIN. 



THE UMBRELLA. 


R is a Rose, rosy red on a thorn ; 

R is a red-breasted Robin come hopping. 

S is a Snow-storm that sweeps o’er the Sea ; 
S is the Song that the swift Swallows sing. 

T is the Tea-table set out for tea; 

T is a Tiger with terrible spring. 

U, the Umbrella, went up in a shower; 

Or Unit is useful with ten to unite. 


AN. ALPHABET FROM ENGLAND. 


49 



POLICEMAN X EXERCISED. 


V is a Violet veined in the flower ; 

V is a Viper of venomous bite. 

W stands for the water-bred Whale ; 

Stands for the wonderful Wax-work so gay. 

X, or X X, or X X X is ale, 

Or Policeman X, exercised day after day. 

Y is a yellow Y acht, yellow its boat ; 

Y is the Yucca, the Yam, or the Yew. 

Z is a Zebra, zigzagged his coat, 

Or Zebu, or Zoophyte, seen at the Zoo. 



“seen at the zoo.” 


6 


50 


THE BLACK HORSE “BOB..’ 


THE BLACK HORSE “BOB.” 



Bob is all ready to take his master out riding. His bridle and saddle 
are on, and, as it is a cold day, Bob’s blanket is thrown over him while 



THE MOUSE THAT LOST HER TAIL. 


51 


he is waiting. Bob is a good horse, and likes to eat a bit of sugar if 
any one will give it to him. See how he is turning his head ! Perhaps 
he thinks you have a piece of sugar for him. Bob’s mistress often goes 
to his stable and pats him, and gives him a piece of candy or sugar. So 
Bob is always glad to see her, and he follows her about when he is out 
of doors eating grass. He hopes that she has some sugar for him. Bob 
thinks that sugar tastes very well with grass. Bob is a fine horse, because 
he is so handsome and strong, and can go so fast ; but his master and 
mistress like him most of all because he is so gentle and so good. 


THE MOUSE THAT LOST HER GREAT LONG TAIL. 

About twenty-five years ago my mother told me this story : One morn- 
ing, when a little gray mouse was running across the pantry floor, a great 
black-and-white cat pounced on her, and bit off her nice long tail. The little 
mouse felt dreadfully about it, and she said to the cat : “ Old cat, will you 
please to give me back my great long tail ? ” 

“ Yes,” said the cat, “ I will give it to you if you will bring me a saucer 
of milk.” 

So the mouse ran down to the barn, where an old red cow was tied 
in the stall, and said : “ Please, old cow, will you give me a saucer of milk 
for the cat, so she will give me back my great long tail ? ” 

The cow said: “Yes, I will give you the milk if you will bring me a 
bunch of hay.” 

Then the mouse went to the farmer who was plowing in a field near 
by, and said to him : “ Will you please to give me some hay for the cow, 
and then she will give me a saucer of milk for the cat, and the cat will 
give me back my great long tail ? ” 

The farmer said: “Yes, I will give you the hay if you will promise 
me not to go in my corn-crib and eat my corn.” 

And as the little mouse said she would “ never, never touch the corn,” 
the farmer gave her a bunch of hay, which she gave to the cow ; and the 
cow gave her a saucer of milk, which she gave to the cat ; and the old cat 
gave her back her great long tail, which made the little mouse very happy. 
But, best of all, she kept her word, and did not touch the farmer’s corn. 


52 


THE HARE AND THE FROGS 


i 




ft- ^ 

IK = mu 

1^- | 


i? BmmmmUllm 

® Ct i ill; 

H== === i/*« N s^v_ VW 





the hare and the frogs 





GOOD-MORNING ! 


53 


THE HARE AND THE FROGS. 

Here is trouble ! The hare, in jumping across the fields, came upon a 
marsh full of frogs, who leaped off in great terror when they saw him. If 
they had waited a moment, they would have known that they had frightened 
him at the same time. He was too startled to jump; so he just put up 
his ears and trembled until every frightened froggie was safely hidden under 
the wet grass. 



* * GOOD-MORNING ! J * 


54 


THE LION. 


THE LION. 

If any of you ever saw a lion, I am quite sure that he was in a cage. 
Now a lion in a cage is a noble-looking beast, but he never seems so 
grand and king-like — you know some people call the lion the King of 
Beasts — as he does when he is free. Of course, almost any living creature 
will look happier and better when it is free than when it is shut up ; but 
there is another reason why the lions we see in cages do not seem so 
grand as those which are free. 

We almost always go to see wild animals in thfe day-time, and animals 
of the cat-kind, of which the lion is one, like to take the day for their 
sleeping time. So, when we see them, they are drowsy and lazy, and 
would much rather take a good nap than be bothered with visitors. If we 
could go and look at them at night, it is likely we should find them much 
more lively. 

Lions are natives of Africa and Asia, and there they roam around at 
night and are not afraid of any living creature. They sometimes stand 
and roar as if they wished all other animals to know that a lion was about, 
and that they would do well to behave themselves. 

When a lion is hungry, he kills a deer or an antelope, or some such 
animal, and eats it. But sometimes he comes near to men’s houses and 
fields, and kills an ox or a cow, and carries it away. A lion must be 
very strong if he can even drag away a great ox. 

The male lion is much handsomer and finer looking than the female, 
or lioness. He has a large head, with a great mane of hair hanging down 
all around his head and over his shoulders. This gives him a very noble 
look. The lioness has no mane at all. 

Baby lions are funny fellows. They look something like clumsy dogs, 
and are quite playful. But long before they are full-grown they begin to 
look grave and sober, as if they knew that it was a very grand thing to 
be a lion. 

Two half- grown lions that I saw not long ago, looked just as quiet and 
sedate as their old father, who was in the next cage. But perhaps they 
had their play and fun at night, when there was nobody there to see. 

Some lions are quite easily tamed, and often learn to like their keepers. 
I suppose you have seen performing lions in cages. The keeper goes into 
the cage and makes the lions, and sometimes leopards and other animals, 
jump about and do just as he tells them. 


THE LION. 


55 


As the lion seems to have a better disposition than most other savage 
beasts, he sometimes becomes so tame that his keepers do not appear to 
be at all afraid of him. 

But he is really a wild beast, at heart, and it would never do to let the 
very tamest lion think that he could go where he pleased, and choose his 



dinner for himself. It would not be long before he would be seen springing 
upon a cow or a horse — if he did not fancy some little boy or girl. 

So, after all, there are animals which have much nobler dispositions than 
the lion, and among these are elephants and dogs — who not only are often 
trusted servants of man, but also seem to have some reasoning powers, and 
are known to do actions that are really good and kind. 


56 


THE WONDERFUL PUPPIES 



was 


THE WONDERFUL PUPPIES 


LITTLE JOE CLACKET. 


57 


A TRUE STORY, IN WHICH MRS. HOUND TALKS 

ABOUT HER PUPPIES. 

How old did you say? Three weeks. Yes, the lit-tle dar-lings are 

three weeks old this ver-y day ; and, though I do say it, they are the 

fin-est chil-dren of their age I ev-er saw. Why, do you know they re-fuse 
to stand up like com-mon dogs ! Won-der-ful, is n’t it ? The way in 
which their soft lit-tle legs bend and dou-ble up un-der them is the most 
as-ton-ish-ing thing you ever saw ! And on the end of ev-er-y leg is — 
oh ! such a per-fect lit-tle paw, as soft as vel-vet — -just look ! At first they 
would not o-pen their eyes. Dear lit-tle things ! Was not that won-der- 
ful ? Then in a few days they o-pened them. Was not that won-der-ful ? 
They go to sleep and they wake up just like oth-er dogs. Does not that 
beat all ? And if you put your ear close to their soft fur, you can hear 
them breathe. Yes, breathe! And they are MY PUP-PIES! 

I am not proud, but I do say they are five love-ly pup-pies. I am 
ver-y care-ful of them, too ; but I will let all you good lit-tle girls and 
boys look at them, if you will be ver-y gen-tle. Don’t make a noise and 
wake up Snow-ball — he is the sleep-y one. Black-ball, here, is wide 
a-wake. You may touch his nose soft-ly, if you wish. You will find it 
quite nice and cool. I am so glad they are well and strong ! They take 
af-ter me. Now, my dear friends, if you will please go a- way, I shall be 
o-bliged to you. My lit-tle ones need rest and qui-et at first, or they 
will be spoiled. Any-thing but nerv ous, fret-ful pup-pies for me ! 


Little Joe Clacket, he made such a racket 
While shelling some corn at the barn, 

The Hebiddy crew, the chickens they flew, 

All coming to eat up Joe’s corn. 

While Joe was shelling his corn in the barn, 

His mother was spinning some double-twist yarn. 
She made such a buzzing and whizzety whuzzing, 
She could not hear Joe at his corn in the barn; 
He made such a racket and clicketty clacket, 

He did not hear her at her double-twist yarn. 


58 


THE ADOPTED CHICKEN. 


THE ADOPTED CHICKEN. 

When I was a little girl, I lived on a farm where there were a great 
many chickens and ducks and turkeys, and among them there was a brown 
hen named Yellowfoot, who wanted very much to have a nice family of little 
yellow chickies ; and she knew if she laid an egg every day until there 
were twelve eggs, and then sat on them patiently three weeks, she would 
have twelve dear little chicks. 

So she laid a nice white egg every day. But she never could get 
twelve, because every day the cook took her egg away ; and so Y ellow- 
foot felt very sadly. 

Now another hen, named Tufty, thought it would be nice to have little 
chickens too ; but she was very smart, and she found a place away off, 
that the cook did n’t know about, and there she hid her eggs ; and one 
day she surprised all the other hens by walking into the chicken-yard with 
twelve little chickens toddling after her ! 

Now I had heard how sorry poor Yellowfoot felt because she had no 
little chickens, and when I saw Tufty walking about so proudly with her 
twelve, I felt very sorry indeed for Yellowfoot. 

Well, that very afternoon something very funny happened. I was walk- 
ing about the farm, and I found in the corner of a rail-fence a turkey 
sitting on some eggs, and running around near her a little lonely chicken 
just out of its shell, making such a pitiful little “ peep-peep.” I took it 
up in my apron and ran and asked one of the men what it could mean, 
and he said that a hen’s egg had by mistake been put with the turkey’s 
eggs, and as it takes a week longer for turkeys’ eggs to hatch than it does 
for hens’ eggs, the poor little chicken had come out of its shell a week 
before there was anybody to take care of it. 

When I heard this, I thought : “ Poor little chickie ! what will you do, 
for I don’t know how to take care of you at all, and it will be a week 
before that ugly turkey gets ready to do it, and you ’ll be dead by that 
time?” And then suddenly I thought: “Why, this little chick is just as 
old as the twelve that were hatched this morning ; now I ’ll take it to the 
chicken-yard and put it down among them, and Tufty will take care of 
it.” So I ran to the chicken -yard and put it with the other little chicks, 
and it ran after Tufty just like the others. 

But you cannot believe how badly Tufty acted ! The minute she heard 
the strange little “peep” with the twelve other little “peeps,” she turned 


OLD YELLOWFOOT. 


59 



around and stood still a minute, and then all her feathers began to stick 
out, and she bobbed her head a minute, and then she pounced at my poor 
little chicken and gave her an awful peck ! 

Was n’t it cruel ? I did not know what to do. I was afraid to go 
near Tufty, because she would think if I went near her that I was going 
to catch her little chicks, and I knew she would 
try to peck me just as she did my poor little 
chicken. While I was thinking, she flew at it 
again and gave it another peck. This time I 
did n’t stop to think, but I jumped and caught 
it, and ran before Tufty could catch me. I ran 
till I felt quite safe, and then sat down on the 
kitchen door- step, with my poor chick in my 
apron, and cried. I think I must have 
cried pretty loud, because mother heard 
me and came out. 

When I had told her all about 
it, she said : “ Why did n’t you 
try old Y ellowfoot ? 


OLD YELLOWFOOT. 


At that, I jumped up and clapped my hands with delight, and my poor 
little chicken dropped on the grass ; but it did n’t hurt it, and I put it 
carefully back in my apron, and went to the chicken-yard again, to try 
mother’s plan. 

I had a hard time finding old Yellowfoot, but finally I came upon her, 
looking very doleful, in the bottom of a barrel. I poked her with a stick, 
but she would not come out. So, finally, I turned the barrel over, so she 


6o 


TWO KITTENS. 


had to come out. But she looked very angry, and made a great deal of 
noise about it. I waited till she got quiet, and then I put my little chicken 
down by her. And, oh ! you should have seen her then ! She looked at 
it a minute, and, when it “ peeped,” she gave a quiet little “ cluck,” just as 
if she were trying it to see how it sounded. And then the little chicken 
“ peeped ” again, and Yellowfoot “ clucked” again and walked ahead a little, 
and chickie followed her. 

So my little chicken had found some one to take care of her, and I 
named her “Lucky” right away. And, oh! how proud Yellowfoot was! 
She strutted everywhere with her one chick, and all the love and care that 
she was going to give to twelve she gave to this one. She scratched for 
it, and “clucked” for it, and fought for it, and gave it all the broad cover 
of her warm wings at night. And little Lucky seemed to know that she 
had all the care that was meant for twelve, for she was the happiest little 
chick that ever lived. 


TWO KITTENS. 

One little kitten 

Scrubbing down its nose ; 

The other little kitten 
Smelling of a rose. 

One little kitten 

Scratching up a tree ; 

The other little kitten 
Nestling close to me. 

One little kitten 
Dashing at a fly ; 

The other little kitten 
Singing “ Baby bye.” 

One little kitten 

Not a word to say ; 

The other little kitten 
Talking all the day. 


THE NAUGHTY DOLL. 


6l 


One little kitten, 

Downy soft with fur ; 

The other little kitten — 
Who can picture her? 

Darling little kitten, 

Rosy, dimpled, curled, 

She ’s my wee, white kitten 
Out of all the world ! 


THE NAUGHTY DOLL. 



Little Mother. Now, Dolly, can you look me in the face and say you 
did n’t go down to the river while I was at church? You can’t say it, I 
see you can’t, and you must go to bed without your supper. 


62 


mamie’s lecture 



MAMIE’S LECTURE. 


“ Itty dirl ! what oo doin’ in my papa’s d’essin’ tase ? Don’t oo know it’s 
welly naughty for itty dirls to det into d’essin’ tases ? Itty chil’ren sood be 
seen, not heard. I'll tell my mamma ’bout how you went an’ dot into my 
papa’s d’essin’ tase. Tissent no bizness for itty dirls. I ’s’amed of oo ! ” 



ROOM FOR ONE MORE. 


LITTLE SAMBO 


6 3 


TOMMY’S WOODEN HORSE. 


“somebody stop him! he’s running away!*' 




LITTLE SAMBO AND THE BUTTERMILK PAIL. 


THE BUTTERMILK PAIL AND LITTLE SAMBO 


6 4 


WHAT ROBBY SAW 



WHAT DOES THIS MEAN, SIR ? 



WHAT ROBBY SAW. 


65 


WHAT ROBBY SAW. 

Birds know a great deal. They know how to find their food, and 
where to go for a change of climate. They know, too, how to build 
nests, and how to take care of their children. They are wise almost as 
soon as they are born. 

But if you think birds cannot be taught anything besides the things 
that they know of their own accord, you are very much mistaken. They 
can be taught to do many funny tricks. I know a boy named Robby 
who has seen them, with his own eyes, do — what , do you think ? 

Why, he has seen two yellow canary-birds harnessed to a little bit of 
a coach, drawing it along in the liveliest way, with a canary-bird for a 
driver and another canary for footman. Think of that ! Yes, and he 
has seen these same birds do even more than this. 

He has seen them act a play. I ’ll tell you about it. 

First, one pretty little fellow, named Mr. Prim, came hopping in as 
lively as a cricket. Then came another pretty little yellow fellow, named 
Major Flit, and he had — a gun ! And — O, O ! — what did Major Flit do 
but point his gun right at Mr. Prim and fire it off ! Down fell Mr. Prim 
stark and stiff — his eyes shut tight, and his poor little toes curled under. 
But Major Flit was not sorry one bit for shooting poor Mr. Prim. He 
strutted about as if he had done something fine. Then another canary, 
named Corporal Gruff, came in, carrying two little pails of water. They 
were about as big as thimbles. He shook his head sadly as he looked 
at poor Mr. Prim lying so helpless and stiff. Then he hopped savagely 
up to Major Flit, and stared at him, with an air that said : “ What does 
this mean, sir?” 

Something dreadful might have happened then if, quick as a flash, Mr. 
Prim had not jumped up, as if to say : 

“ Ho ! ho ! you thought I was killed, did you ? Well, I ’m just as 
much alive as you are ! ” 

Now the birds had been taught by their kind master to do all this. 
The gun would go off and make a flash, but it had no shot in it. 

Robby dreamed that night of Mr. Prim, the Major and the Corporal; 
the Major had on soldier clothes, and Mr. Prim was shaving himself 
before a yellow looking-glass ! Was not that a funny dream ? 

If you ever go to a show where there are performing birds, look out 
sharply for Mr. Prim, the Major, and Corporal Gruff. 

7 


66 


THE GINGER-BREAD BOY. 


THE GIN-GER-BREAD BOY. 


Now you shall hear a sto-ry that some-bod-y’s great, great-grand- 
moth-er told a lit-tle girl ev-er so ma-ny years a-go : 

There was once a lit-tle old man and a lit-tle old wom-an, who lived 
in a lit-tle old house in the edge of a wood. They would have been a 
ver-y hap-py old coup-le but for one thing, — they had no lit-tle child, and 
they wished for one ver-y much. One day, when the lit-tle old wom-an 
was bak-ing gin-ger-bread, she cut a cake in the shape of a lit-tle boy, 
and put it in-to the ov-en. 

Pres-ent-ly, she went to the ov-en to see if it was baked. As soon as 
the ov-en door was o-pened, the lit-tle gin-ger-bread boy jumped out, and 
be-gan to run a-way as fast as he could go. 

The lit-tle old wom-an called her hus-band, and they both ran aft-er 
him. But they could not catch him. And soon the gin-ger-bread boy 
came to a barn full of thresh-ers. He called out to them as he went by, 
say-ing : 

“ I ’ve run a-way from a lit-tle old wom-an, 

A lit-tle old man, 

And I can run a-way from you, I can ! ” 



Then the barn full of thresh-ers set out to run aft-er him. But, though 
they ran fast, they could not catch him. And he ran on till he came to 
a field full of mow-ers. He called out to them : 

“ I ’ve run a-way from a lit-tle old wom-an, 

A lit-tle old man, 

A barn full of thresh-ers, 

And I can run a-way from you, I can ! ” 


THE GINGER-BREAD BOY. 


6 7 


Then the mow-ers be-gan to run aft-er him, but they could n’t catch 
him. And he ran on till he came to a cow. He called out to her : 


“ I ’ve run a-way from a lit-tle old wom-an, 

A lit-tle old man, 

A barn full of thresh-ers, 

A field full of mow-ers, 

And I can run a-way from you, I can ! ” 

But, though the cow start-ed at once, she could n’t catch him. And 
soon he came to a pig. He called out to the pig : 

“ I Ve run a-way from a lit-tle old wom-an, 

A lit-tle old man, 

A barn full of thresh-ers, 

A field full of mow-ers, 

A cow, — 

And I can run a-way from you, I can ! ” 

But the pig ran, and could n’t catch him. And he ran till he came 
a-cross a fox, and to him he called out : 

“ I ’ve run a-way from a lit-tle old wom-an, 
A lit-tle old man, 

A barn full of thresh-ers, 

A field full of mow-ers, 

A cow and a pig, 

And I can run a-way from you, I can ! ” 

Then the fox set out to run. Now fox-es can run ver-y fast, and so 
the fox soon caught the gin-ger-bread boy and be-gan to eat him up. 

Pres-ent-ly the gin-ger-bread boy said : “ O dear ! I ’m quar-ter gone ! ” 
And then : “ Oh, I ’m half gone ! ” And soon : “I’m three- quar-ters 
gone!” And at last: “I’m all gone!” and nev-er spoke a-gain. 






68 


TOBY 












TOBY. 


69 


TOBY. 

You see him in the picture. That is Toby, with the slippers in his 
mouth. He has just brought them down-stairs. Does his mistress praise 
him for fetching the slippers? Not at all. 

“You stupid Toby,” she says. “I said boots; I didn’t say slippers! 
Boots, Toby. Go and bring them, right away ! ” 

Off flies Toby upstairs ; then down again he tumbles — Toby and the 
boots in a moving bundle, which ends with a wag ! The mistress says, 
“Good Toby!” while Toby capers and all but laughs. 

After that, he begins to beg. What does he want ? The mistress 
knows. She opens the little drawer and takes out a ball. It is Toby’s. 
As soon as he sees it, he runs away into the hall. That is because he wants 
her to hide it. She puts it under the sofa-pillow. Toby comes back. 

First he looks behind the window -curtain, then under the table, then 
in the corners, then at the back of the door. The ball is not in any of 
these places. At last he climbs the sofa. Ah, there it is ! and Toby, 
giving it a bite of joy, rolls it across the room, runs after, seizes, brings 
it back, and stands, with a look in his eyes which says plain as words, 
“ Please hide it again.” 

But the mistress says: “ You must have your breakfast first. No more 
ball, Toby, till you have eaten your bread-and-milk.” 

Toby hates bread-and-milk. He eyes the plate and growls, but will 
not go near it. So the mistress, who knows Toby’s ways, brings his 
deadly foe, Mrs. Cracker. Mrs. Cracker is an ugly, black India-rubber 
doll, with the marks of Toby’s teeth all over her body. 

“ Here she comes,” cries the mistress, jerking Mrs. Cracker across the 
carpet. “ Hurry, Toby, hurry ! Mrs. Cracker will get it, if you don’t.” 

Mrs. Cracker leans over the plate, and puts her head in the milk. This 
is too much ! Toby makes one bound, flings her aside, and begins to 
gobble his breakfast as fast as possible. If he shows signs of stopping, 
Mrs. Cracker is made to draw near. Then Toby is furious. He catches 
her by the neck, stirs her round in the milk, growls hard, and eats on 
till every drop of the breakfast is gone and Mrs. Cracker lies high 
and dry in the empty plate. Then Toby feels that he has conquered, 
wags a proud tail, and makes a queer noise, which I think must be a 
song of joy. 

Would n’t you like to know Toby ? 


70 


GOING TO LONDON 


THE MOUSE’S MISTAKE. 



“l WONDER WHAT’S IN HERE — IT SMELLS LIKE CHEESE.” BUT IT WAS N’T. 



GOING TO LONDON. 


By M. M. D. 


Up, down ! Up, down ! 

All the way to London town — 
Here we go with baby ! 

I ’m the papa, 

Y ou ’re the ma’ma, 
You’re the pretty lady! 


Up, down! Up, down! 

All the way to London town — 
See how fast we ’re going ! 
Feel the jar 
Of the car? 

Feel the wind a-blowing? 


Up, down! Up, down! 

All the way to London town — 
Here we are this minute ! 
Rock a chair 
Anywhere, 

When we two are in it. 





THE BUMBLE-BEE. 


THE BUMBLE-BEE. 


The bumble-bee, the bumble-bee, 

He flew to the top of the tulip-tree; 

He flew to the top, but he could not stop, 

For he had to get home to his early tea. 

The bumble-bee, the bumble-bee, 

He flew away from the tulip-tree; 

But he made a mistake, and flew into the lake, 
And he never got home to his early tea. 



“little tommy tucker, sing for your supper.” — Mother Goose's Melodies. 


72 


JIM AND THE WATER-MELON. 


JIM AND THE WATER-MELON. 



LITTLE JIM FINDS THE WATER-MELON. BUT HIS MOTHER SUDDENLY COMES IN. 


THE LITTLE FROG THAT WAS FED ON NOTHING 

BUT PENNIES. 

Have you ever seen a green frog which was fed on nothing but pennies ? 
Marie had one. It was made of iron, and painted green, with large black 
eyes, and it was to be used as a savings bank. It was a curious-looking 
frog, with its green speckled back ; and when Marie pressed her finger 
on its left foot, it opened its mouth wide. Then she dropped a penny in 
the mouth, and let go of the foot. What do you think froggy did? He 
shut up his mouth, swallowed the pennies, and winked his two black eyes. 


THE LITTLE FROG. 


73 


as if to say, “That’s good — give me another!” It was such fun to feed 
the frog and see him wink ! 

But one day poor froggy was sick. He would not eat nor roll his eyes. 
Marie did n’t know what to do. She shook him till he must have been 
dizzy. She turned him upside down, she pounded him, but it was all 
of no avail, — froggy would not move his mouth or eyes. At last she took 
him to mamma. 

“ Mamma, dear, froggy will not eat any more ! ” 

“Too bad, indeed ! ” said mamma. “ Let me see what is the matter.” 

So she looked in the frog’s mouth, just as a doctor looks at little girls’ 
tongues when they are ill and cannot eat. 

“ Why, what is this I see ? ” said mamma. “ Bring me my scissors.” 

Marie brought the long shears, and mamma thrust them into the frog’s 
mouth, and soon brought out a piece of slate pencil. 

“ Why, no wonder poor froggy was sick ! Now, don’t ever put any- 
thing in his mouth, my little girl, except pennies, and he will be all right.” 



Just then the frog gave a wink with both eyes, as he always did when 
he was well, and little Marie was happy. 

“Oh, you good frog!” said she. “Now you shall have a real nice 
dinner,” and she dropped a silver ten-cent piece into his mouth, which he 
quickly swallowed, seeming to say, by his winks, “ I ’m all right now.” 


7 4 


THE LITTLE DOG WITH THE GREEN TAIL. 


THE LITTLE DOG WITH THE GREEN TAIL. 

Once upon a time, there came to the town where all the little dog’s live, a 
strange little dog, whose tail was of a most beautiful bright green color so 
very bright that it shone like an emerald. Now, when all the other little 
dogs saw this, they were filled with admiration and envy, and they all ran to 
the strange little dog and said : 

“ Oh, little dog ! what makes your tail so beautifully green ? Pray tell 
us, that we may make ours green too, for we never saw anything so lovely 
in all our lives.” 

But the strange little dog laughed and said : “ There are many things far 



THE LITTLE DOGS DIG HOLES AND GET INTO THEM. 


greener than my tail. There is the grass down in the meadow ; go and ask 
that what makes it green, and perhaps it will tell you.” 

So all the little dogs ran down into the meadow where the grass was 
growing, and they said: “Oh, grass, grass! what makes you so green? 
Pray tell us, that we may all get green tails like the strange little dog’s.” 

But all the little blades of grass shook their heads, and said : “We can 
tell you nothing about that. All we know is, that we were down under the 
ground last winter, and that when we came up this spring we were all green. 
You might try that, and perhaps it would make you green too.” 

So all the little dogs went to work as fast as they could, and dug holes in 
the ground ; and then they got into them and covered themselves up with 
earth. But very soon they found that they could not breathe ; so they were 
all obliged to come up again. And when they looked at each other, they 


THE LITTLE DOG WITH THE GREEN TAIL 


75 


saw to their sorrow that they were not green at all, but just the same colors 
that they were before — some black, some brown, and some spotted. So then 
they all went again to the strange little dog, and said : 

“ Oh, little dog, little dog ! we have been to the grass, and it has not 
helped us at all. Now, do please tell us what makes your tail so beautifully 
green, for we never can be happy till ours are like it.” 

But the strange little dog only laughed again, and answered : “ My tail is 
not the only green thing in the world. There are the leaves on the great 
oak-tree ; they are very green indeed. Go and ask them what makes them 
so, and perhaps they will tell you.” 

So all the' little dogs ran as fast as they could to the great oak-tree, and 
called out to the little leaves : “ Oh, little leaves ! what makes you so beauti- 



THE LITTLE DOGS TUMBLE OUT OF THE TREE. 


fully green ? Do tell us, that we may all get green tails like the strange 
little dog’s.” 

But the little leaves all shook their heads, and said : “We know nothing 
about that. We came out of our buds last spring, and then we were very 
pale. But we danced about, and the more we danced the greener we grew. 
Perhaps, if you come up here and dance, you will grow green too.” 

So all the little dogs climbed up the tree as fast as they could, and tried 
to dance about on the branches. But they were not fastened on like the 
little leaves, so they all fell down and hurt themselves very much ; and when 
they got up and looked at each other, they were not any greener than before. 
So then they all cried bitterly, and they ran once more to the strange little 
dog, and said : “ Oh, little dog, little dog ! we have tried the way that the 
leaves told us, and we have only hurt ourselves dreadfully, and have not got 


76 


THE LITTLE DOG WITH THE GREEN TAIL. 


green at all. And now, if you do not tell us, we shall all die of grief, for we 
never can rest again till our tails are green.” 

But the strange little dog only laughed more than ever, and said : “ What 
stupid creatures you are, to think that there is nothing green in the world 
except my tail. There is the Sea ; he is twenty times as green as my tail. 
Go and ask him, and he will surely tell you all about it, for he is very wise 
and knows everything.” 

So all the little dogs ran as fast as they could down to the shore ; and 
there was the great hungry Sea prowling up and down, twirling his white 
moustaches and tossing his white hair, and looking very green and very 



THE LITTLE DOGS GO DOWN TO THE SEA. 


fierce. The little dogs were very much frightened, but they took courage 
when they thought of the beautiful green tail, and they said, trembling : 

“ Oh, great Sea ! the strange little dog told us that you were very wise 
and knew everything, and that you would tell us how to make our tails green 
like his.” 

The great Sea smiled wickedly, and answered: “Oh, yes, my children, I 
can tell you. I am green myself, and I make everything green that touches 
me. So let me take you in my arms a moment, and you will all become 
beautifully green just like me.” 

So the great hungry Sea held out his long green arms, and beckoned to 
them with his white hands ; and the poor little dogs all shut their eyes and 
jumped in, and in less than a minute the Sea gobbled them all up, so that not 
one was left. And there was an end of all the little dogs. And the strange 
little dog went back to the place he came from, with his green tail curled up 
behind him ; and he never was seen or heard of again. 


WINDING THE CLOCK 


77 



WINDING THE CLOCK 










7S 


FLUFFY AND SNUFFY. 


FLUFFY AND SNUFFY. 


By Carrie W. Thompson. 



Fluffy was a little girl, with some nice clean clothes on ; 
Snuffy was a little dog, with a naughty nose on. 



Fluffy had a bowl of broth given her for dinner ; 

Snuffy, from a stool near by, watched her, — little sinner ! 



Fluffy thought she heard a noise like an organ-grinder; 

Turned her curly head to look through the pane behind her. 

Snuffy, when she dropped her spoon, went to learn the reason ; 
Mild respect was in his eye,— in his heart was treason. 




SUMMER. 


79 



Fluffy’s thoughts came back to broth, at the time precisely, 
That he turned it upside down, just to cool it nicely. 

Fluffy cried and ran away, with no nice clean clothes on; 
And Snuffy was a little dog, with an injured nose on. 



SUMMER. 


So 


AT THE MENAGERIE 


AT THE MENAGERIE. 



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This is Bessie s first visit to the menagerie. She heard the lion roar, 
and now she is afraid to look at him. Her big brother is not afraid. 
He thinks the lion is a splendid fellow. 



DEAR OLD ROBINSON CRUSOE 


SI 



8 


DEAR OLD ROBINSON CRUSOE 




82 


THE FROGS’ PICNIC. 


THE FROGS’ PICNIC. 

There were once five little frogs who had a holiday. They all agreed 
that it would be great fun to go on a picnic, and so their mothers told 



THE SMALLEST FROG TAKES A SWIM. 


them that they might go, if they would be careful and not get their feet 
dry. You know that when a frog is right well, his feet always feel cool 
and damp. If you ever catch a well frog you can feel his feet, and see 
if this is not so. 

So off these five frogs started, all in high glee, and bound to make 
a merry day of it. They soon reached a small woods with a pretty 


THE FROGS’ PICNIC. 


83 


stream running through it, and there they agreed to have their picnic. 
They hid their dinners, which they had brought with them, behind a small 
bush, and then they began to play games. They played a good many 
very nice games, suitable for little frogs, and enjoyed themselyes very 
much, jumping about in the damp grass and among the wet leaves in the 
woods ; for it was yet quite early in the day, and the dew was still on 
the ground. 

But after a while the sun rose higher, and the day became warmer, 
and then these little frogs did not care so much for jumping and hopping 

about on dry land. So they all sat down to rest near the edge of the 

stream. 

Very soon the smallest frog said he was warm and dry, and he jumped 
into the water to take a swim. 

“ Come on in ! ” he called out to the others. “ It ’s splendid ! I did 

not know how uncomfortable it was out there.” 

“Oh, ho!” said the oldest frog, “we’re not going in the water. We 
can do that any day. Don’t you know this is a picnic ? ” 

“Yes, I know it is, and that’s the reason I want to have all the fun 
I can. You had better come in before your feet get dry, and you make 
yourselves sick.” 

The other frogs thought that this little fellow was very silly. One of 
them turned her back on him and would not have a word to say to him. 
The second largest frog grinned at him until his mouth stretched out nearly 
as wide as his body, and said : 

“You must be a simpleton! Going in to swim when we are out on 
a picnic, and want to have a good time doing things that we don’t do 
every day. You might as well have staid at home.” 

But the little frog did not mind what the others said. He just swam 
about and enjoyed himself. 

The other frogs thought that this was very ridiculous and improper, 
but as they looked at him he seemed so comfortable in the clear, cool 
stream, that they almost wished it was yesterday or to-morrow, or some 
day which was not a picnic-day, so that they might go in too. 

Sometimes the little frog came out and wanted to play. But they did 
not care about playing, and as the day wore on they began to feel so 
badly that they agreed to consider that the picnic was over. 

The minute this was settled the five frogs sprang altogether into the 
air and came down splash / into the water. 

Oh how delightful and cool it was ! 


8 4 


BROKEN TOYS. 


“No more picnics for me!” cried the widest-mouthed fellow. “I go 
in for enjoying myself.” 

“Well,” said the little frog, “I don’t see why we can’t have a picnic 
without thinking that we must do something uncommon all the time. I 
think that frogs can often have lots more fun doing the things that they 
do every day, than when they try to do something that they are not 
used to.” 

That was a very wise little frog. 



BROKEN TOYS. 

A little girl, just four years old, 
Had many a pretty toy, 

And did not try to keep them nice, 
But only to destroy. 

Her mother’s scissors she would get 
And clip the things she found, 
Till cloth arid pictures on the floor, 
Cut into bits, lay round. 

Her family of dolls, alas ! 

When they were put to bed, 

This one had lost a leg or arm, 
And that would have no head. 

One day, a darling doll came home, 
The prettiest in the world, 

Its eyes so blue, its cheeks so red, 
Its fair locks neatly curled. 





BROKEN TOYS. 85 


But in one week how sad a wreck, 

For all its cost and care ! 

Its legs and arms and nose were gone, 
And its poor head was bare. 



THE SHELF OF BROKEN TOYS. 


Then her papa hung up a shelf, 

And placed there in a row 
Her broken toys, and, oh ! they made 
A very ugly show. 

But when the mischiefs she had done 
This little girl had seen, 

Oh, then she cried and said: “Mamma, 
How naughty I have been ! ” 


86 


A MILLION LITTLE DIAMONDS. 


A million little diamonds 
Twinkled on the trees; 

And all the little maidens said: 

“A jewel, if you please!” 

But while they held their hands outstretched, 
To catch the diamonds gay, 

A million little sunbeams came, 

And stole them all away. 


A black-nosed kitten will slumber all the day ; 
A white-nosed kitten is ever glad to play ; 

A yellow-nosed kitten will answer to your call, 
And a gray-nosed kitten I would n’t have at all. 



AN OLD FOLKS’ CONCERT. 


GULLIVER AND THE LITTLE MEN. 


87 





Gulliver is the hero of a famous book by Jonathan Swift. He once was 
in a country where all the people and animals were very, very small. Here 
he is in the picture showing his watch to two little men who have climbed 
up to his knee. They think he is a 'mighty giant. One of the others is 
pointing to his big sword: another is trying to master a little horse, that has 
taken fright at the stranger’s shoes. Why, if the horse and rider were to ride 
right over Gulliver’s feet, he would n’t care ! When you get older you can 
read about Gulliver and his visit to Lilliput, the country of the little men. 


88 


LITTLE DUTCH GRETCHEN. 


THE “MISS MUFFETT” SERIES. 

(No. 1 .) 



Little Dutch Gretchen sat in the kitchen, 
Eating some nice sauerkraut, 

When the little dog Schneider 
Came and sat down beside her, 

And little Dutch Gretchen went out. 



LITTLE PEEKY-WANG-FOO. 


89 


THE “MISS MUFFETT” SERIES. 

(No. II.) 



Little Peeky-Wang-Foo, with her chopsticks so new, 
Sat eating her luncheon of rice, 

When a rat running by, 

On the rice cast his eye, 

And Peeky ran off in a trice. 


90 


HANS, THE SMALL ESQUIMAUX. 


THE “MISS MUFFETT” SERIES. 
(No. III.) 



Hans, the small Esquimaux, sat out on the snow, 
Sucking some bits of dried seals, 

When a white Polar bear 
Came and asked for his share, 

And Hans, quickly took to his heels. 


LITTLE JULIA AP-JONES. 


THE “MISS MUFFETT” SERIES. 

(No. IV.) 



Little Julia Ap- Jones stood on the cold stones, 
Nibbling a morsel of cheese, 

When a little Welsh rabbit, 

Running by, tried to grab it, 

Quite forgetting to say, “ If you please.” 


9 2 


PETITE MARIE MARTIN. 


THE “MISS MUFFETT” SERIES. 

(No. V.) 



Petite Marie Martin, 

En mangeant du pain, 

D’un corbeau recoit une visite. 
Dit-elle, “ Eh bien ! 

Je vous laiss’rai mon pain. 

Ail revoir ! 55 Et elle sortit tres-vite. 



LITTLE TRADJA OF NORWAY. 


93 


THE “MISS MUFFETT” SERIES. 

(No. VI.) 



Little Tradja of Norway, 

She sat in the door-way, 

Eating her reindeer broth ; 

There came a big badger, 

And little Miss Tradja 

Soon carried her meal further north. 


94 


LITTLE BIDDY O’TOOLE. 


THE “MISS MUFFETT” SERIES. 
(No. VII.) 



Little Biddy O’Toole, on her three-leggid stool, 
Was ’atin’ her praties so hot, 

Whin up shtepp’d the pig, 

Wid his appetoite big, 

And Biddy vacated the spot. 


TOTO AND GRETEL. 


95 



THE BROKEN PITCHER. 

Poor Toto and Gretel ! It was such fun to carry the 
big pitcher .to the pump together — and now it is broken ! 
They don’t know just how it happened, but they are 
quite sure that their mother will say: “Oh, Toto and 
Gretel ! How could you be so careless ! ” 


9 6 


HOW TOMMY CAME HOME. 


HOW TOMMY CAME HOME. 

Tommy was a tame bird. You see him in the picture, sitting on the back 
of a chair. Sometimes he was shut up in his cage ; but he was so tame, and 
knew the family so well, that he was often allowed to fly about the room. 
One day, a window happened to be open when Tommy was out of his cage, 
and he thought it would be a good thing for him to go out of doors for a 
little while. So he went out. He flew up into a tree, and it was so nice and 
cool there that he soon flew into another tree, and so he kept on flying about 
until it was night, and he was a long way from home. Tommy now began 
to get hungry, and to wish himself back in his cage, where he knew there 
was plenty of nice seed. But he did not know exactly which way to go, for 
it was quite dark, and he was not used to being out-of-doors at night. So 
he went to sleep on a limb of a tree ; but before he shut his eyes, he made 
up his mind that he would wake up very early and try to catch a worm. 
But when he awoke it was not very early, and the country birds, who live 
out-of-doors all the time, had caught all the worms. So poor Tommy felt 
so badly that he did not even try to find his way home. 

When his kind master missed Tommy, he was very sorry, and he went 
looking all about for him, whistling a little tune that Tommy liked. But no 
Tommy answered him. After breakfast, the next day, a gentleman came to 
Tommy’s master’s house and said, “ I saw a bird like your Tommy in a tree 
back of Mr. Scott’s barn. He whistled just like Tommy.” So Tommy’s 
master took the bird-cage and ran all the way to Mr. Scott’s barn. And 
there in a tree was Tommy ! So his master began to whistle the little tune 
Tommy liked, and Tommy was glad enough to hear that tune, and he 
whistled it too. His master put the cage on the ground and opened the 
door, and then he stepped to one side and whistled again. In a few minutes 
Tommy flew down on the ground and hopped along to the cage. When he 
saw that it was really his own cage, he went in and began to eat seed as fast 
as he could. Then his master shut the door and took him home, and he was 
very glad indeed to get Tommy again. 

Now you see that if Tommy’s master had not been kind to him, the poor 
lost bird would have been afraid to come down from the tree and go into his 
cage. But Tommy had been so kindly treated that he was not afraid, and 
so his master got him again. 

If you have a bird or any other pet, you ought to remember this story 
and be kind to your pet, and then, if it should get lost, it may be as glad to 
see you as Tommy was to see his master. 


TOMMY 


97 




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pHLi , 

fTJS 


9 


TOMMY. 










98 


THE STRAWBERRY GIRL. 



THE STRAWBERRY GIRL. 


This engraving is copied from a beautiful painting by an 
English artist, Sir Joshua Reynolds. He died many years 
ago. Are you not glad that he painted this dear little girl’s 
picture? Her queer basket, or pottle, is full of strawberries. 
I hope she will sell them, don’t you? She wants to earn 
some money for her mother. 


THE MOON CAME LATE. 


99 


Wee little house with the golden thatch; 
Twice I knocked and I lifted the latch: 
“ And pray, is the mistress here?” 

“ In black stuff gown and a yellow vest, 
She ’s busily packing her honey-chest; 
Will you taste a bit, my dear?” 



The moon came late to the twinkling sky, 

To see what the stars were about : 
u Fair night, ” quoth she, “ are the family in ? ” 
“ Oh ! no, they are, every one, out.” 


IOO 


ABOUT TWO LITTLE BOYS. 


ABOUT TWO LITTLE BOYS. 

By K. A. M. 



Two little boys, all neat and clean, 
Came down upon the shore; 

They did not know old Ocean’s ways — 
They ’d ne’er seen him before. 



So quietly they sat them down, 

To build a fort of sand; 

Their backs were turned upon the sea, 
Their faces toward the land. 


WHAT MAY HAPPEN 


IOI 



They had just built a famous fort — 
The handkerchief flag was spread — 
When up there came a stealthy wave, 
And turned them heels over head. 




102 


THREE LITTLE DOGS. 


THREE LITTLE DOGS. 

Trip. 

This is Janes dog Trip. See how fast he runs ! He has been sent 
with a note from Jane to her friend Kate. 

Trip will run to Kate’s house, and 
scratch the door, and whine to be let in. 
Then Kate will come and take the note, 
and pat him on the head and say, “ Good 
Trip ! how is Jane ?” 

“ Bow, wow !” says Trip. That means, 
“Jane is well; and how are you, Kate?” 

Kate says, “Come in, Trip, and wait; 
I will write back to Jane.” 

So Trip goes in, and jumps up by 
her chair, and barks, while she writes 
her note. 

Then she folds it, and writes Jane’s 
name on the back. Down at one side she puts these words, “ Care of 
Trip.” That means Trip is to take good care of the note, and not lose it. 

Trip takes the note in his teeth, and runs with it back to Jane, and 
does not play by the way. 

They think he is the best 
dog in the world. 

Jim. 

Kate has a dog too, 
and his name is Jim. She 
does not send him with 
notes, but he is a good dog, 
and he is such a firm friend 
to Kate’s bird, Tom, that 
he will let Tom come and 
jump on his back, which is 
a nice soft and warm place 
for the bird to rest on. 

If Tom could say that he would like to have one or two hairs from 
Jim’s back to help make a nest, Jim would let him have them. But Tom 



JIM. 



TRIP. 


THREE LITTLE DOGS. 


103 


cannot talk to Jim, or if he does chirp in the dog’s ear, the dog does not 
know what he means. But they are such good friends, and Tom is so 
glad to see Jim, and Jim is so glad to see Tom, that they do not need 
to know how to talk. So if Tom feels that he would like to have a hair 
or two, he just takes them, and Jim does not mind it much. 

Rob. 

Rob is a good dog too, but he will bark when a man or a boy does 
what he thinks is wrong. He is John Hale’s dog. John is a friend 
of both Kate and Jane. 

Rob does not like 
bad dogs, and he will 
bite them if they are 
not too big. One day 
he saw a small dog who 
was so cross and mean 
that he would bark at 
all the girls who went 
to school past his box 
or house. 

So Rob thought that 
this small dog should 
learn to keep cool ; and 
he took him in his 
mouth and let him drop 
in a pond. The small 
dog did not like this, 
and when he came out he went home as fast as he could, and to this day 
he does not bark at the girls when Rob is near. 

But if this cross small dog should fall into a pond or a creek, and if 
he could not swim well, and so could not get out, and if Rob should come 
by and see him in the pond, Rob would jump in and help him out all the 
same as if he were a good dog ; for Rob is kind to those who need his help, 
but at the same time he knows how to treat those who are bad and mean. 

There are some men and boys, and girls too, who might learn from 
Rob a good deal that it would be well for them to know. 

They might learn that we should not make friends with those who 
are bad, but that we should do good to all who need our help, if they 
are good or if they are bad. 



ROB. 


104 


CHILDREN OF THE WEEK 


CHILDREN OF THE WEEK. 


The child that is born on the 
Sabbath day 

Is blithe and bonny, and good 
and gay; 

Mondays child is fair of face ; 
Tuesday’s child is full of grace; 
Wednesday’s child is merry and 
glad; 

Thursday’s child is sour and sad ; 
Friday’s child is loving and giv- 
ing ; 

And Saturday’s child must work 

x\\"' 



OLD RHYME. 


THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN. 


105 


THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN. 


There was an old woman tossed up in a basket, 
Seventy times as high as the moon ; 

Where she was going I could n’t but ask it, 

For in her hand she carried a broom. 









“ Old woman ! Old woman ! 

Old woman ! ” said I, 

“ O whither, O whither, 

O whither so high ? ” 
“To sweep the cobwebs 
Out of the sky; 

And I shall be back again 
By and by.” 




106 


BRAVE TIM. 



BRAVE TIM, THE CENTENNIAL CAT. 


By F. W. S. 


There lived in the village of Pleasant-town an interesting family of cats. 
Their names were Tab, Tim, and Puss. Tab, the mother, died, and left Tim 

and Puss to seek 
their own living. 
They first wander- 
ed down to the 
edge of the woods, 
where there was a 
pretty little brook* 
The cats sat down 
by the edge of the 
water and watched 
the shining perch 
glide swiftly by. 
They wished very 
much that they 
could catch some 
of them, for they 
were very hun- 
gry. Finding their 
wishes were vain, 
they hid in a cor- 
ner, and both fell 
asleep. 

Not far from the 
woods a circus-tent 
had been pitched. 
The music, the 
beating of drums, 
and the general 
noise, woke up the 
kittens in a fright. 

Puss began to mew sadly ; but Tim, who was brave and daring, started for 
the circus grounds, followed by timid Puss. 

At length they found a good hiding-place among some loose boards, close 


BRAVE TIM 


107 


to the great balloon that lay swelling and puffing upon the ground. Tim 
was in delight, for close by he spied some pieces of the men’s dinners, 
and soon he and Puss made a good meal. Puss then stretched herself upon 
some dried leaves, to watch the people ; while Tim scampered among the 
boards, and cut up all the capers he could think of. 

Now the fun began ! The great balloon was filling, and the air rang with 
shouts. No one 


noticed Tim, who 
had lost all fear, 
and was even 
climbing ropes and 
darting like light- 
ning all around. 

“ There ! she ’s 


going 


! ” bellowed 



the boys, as the 
balloon was ready 
to begin her voy- 
age. 

Tim, not know- 
ing his danger, had 
given a spring and 
was holding tightly 
to the rope which 
hung from the 
basket. Suddenly, 
the air -ship shot 
upward, with Tim 
— luckless Tim ! — 
clutching the sway- 
ing rope. 

“ Hip ! hip ! hur- 
rah ! hurrah 1 ! ” 

“ Look ! look ! ” 
roared men and 
boys. “See the 

cat dangling ! — ha ! ha ! ha ! ” They all expected to see Tim tumbling 
down among them, but in this they were mistaken. Tim was brave still. 
He did not let go his hold. 


TIM CLINGS TO THE ROPE. 




“ This is seeing the world ! ” he thought as he was whirled through the air. 

Now he heard a voice. It said : “You brave scamp, I ’ll haul you in ! ” 
Tim’s heart beat wildly as he felt a hand lifting him into the basket, and 
heard the same voice say : “ Poor fellow ! you are safe now.” 

Tim curled himself in a corner to listen, and to wonder where in the big 
world he would land, and if he would ever see Puss again. 

“Never mind,” he thought; “ Puss is pretty and gentle, and will be sure 
to find friends. / mean to see the world.” 

The balloon sailed gayly on, and Tim more than once caught the word 
“Centennial.” “What does it mean?” he thought, pricking his ears. 

Tim caught the word “Centennial” again. The friendly voice he had 
first heard began. It said : 

“We will drop down a little, and sail right over the show.” 

They were just in time. The bright sun shone down upon a glorious 
scene. Palaces, grand and high, looked upward ; statues and fountains, 
flowers and beautiful shrubs, high trees, and winding paths lay below, and 
thousands and thousands of people thronged in and about all the buildings. 

“Oh, the world !” again thought Tim, as he stretched his neck over the 
basket. “And this is the ‘ Centennial,’ too ! Oh, oh ! how nice ! ” 

“ Honor to the brave ! ” Tim heard these words. He opened his eyes, 
and saw that the beautiful moon was shining over the river, upon the ships, 
and falling like a crown upon the tops of the Jersey pines. 

“ We shall come down in a very good place,” said Tim’s friend, after a 
while, “ and I ’ll take charge of the little fellow. He’s too courageous a 
scamp to turn adrift here.” 

Tim’s heart grew big with gratitude, and he purred so loud that his friend 
caressed him tenderly, saying: “You shall have a soft place upon the parlor 
rug, and be the children’s plaything.” 

“ Not I,” thought Tim ; “ that would suit Puss. I ’m too brave a cat 
to waste life so. It ’s the world for me, — the great, wonderful world that I 
want to see ! But I wont forget my friend, nor Puss. Poor Puss ! ” 

That morning he was taken to his new home. Tim thought his master’s 
house very fine. The carpets were soft and rich ; the children pretty and 
kind. But as he stretched himself up before the parlor glass, he said : 

“ Mew, mew, mew ! The big world for me ! ” 

Full of his fancies, Tim curled himself up in a warm, sunny spot, just to 
settle his plans, for the children had gone out to the “ Centennial.” 

“ I’ll hear all I can to-night,” he said, “ and to-morrow I ’ll go to the 
Centennial.” 


BRAVE TIM. 


IO9 



Tim entertained the family that evening with all his antics, as payment 
for their kindness, because he expected to leave them next day. 

Accordingly, when daylight peeped in at the windows, Tim was all ready 
— up and dressed! Dressed ? Yes, the cunning fellow had borrowed a pair 

of the baby’s boots, 
which were of a 
lovely pink ; a large 
paper collar from 
his master ; and 
some red, white, 
and blue ribbons 
from the little girls. 

Off the fellow 
proudly strutted, 
reaching the Cen- 
tennial grounds in 
good time. Little 
did he care for the 
smiles of proud 
ladies, the laughter 
of saucy children, 
or the many for- 
eign fingers that 
were pointed at 
him ; while, in 
tongues unknown 
to him, they asked, 
“ What is it ? ” 

“ They take me 
for a mighty prince 
perhaps ! ” chuckled 
Tim, with a wink 
of his eye. “I look 
tim at the centennial. so V ery foreign ! ” 

He pricked up his ears and rushed into the throng of curiosity seekers, 
still bent upon seeing all he could of the gay world. 

Now I assure you, dear children, that among all the wonderful curiosities 
of the present day, there is none more truly wonderful than “Brave Tim, 
our Centennial Cat” — if you only can find him. 


IO 


THE ROBIN’S VISIT. 



THE ROBIN’S VISIT. 

nce a robin flew into a pretty room ; 
and just as he went in, the wind 
banged the window-blinds shut, so 
he could not get out again. 

At first he did not mind, but flew 
about and lit on the bright picture- 
frames, and wished his pretty wife 
were with him to enjoy the pleasant 
place. Then he rested on the back 
of a small chair, and then he saw 
another robin ! 

“ O-ho ! ” sang he to himself, — 
“ here is some one else. I must 
speak to him : ‘ Whew ! Mr. Robin, 
glad to meet you. My name is 
Cock Robin. What do they call 
this place ? ’ ” 

But the other robin did not an- 
swer. He only opened his mouth 
and jerked his head from side to 
side just as Mr. Cock Robin did. 
You see the other robin lived in the 
looking-glass, and could not speak. 

“ A rude fellow ! ” chirped Mr. 
Cock Robin to himself. “ Not worth 
talking to ! Ah ! yonder are some 
fine cherries ! I ’ll eat some.” 

The cherries were in a bowl on 
the table. Mr. Cock Robin helped 
himself. Then he decided to try the 
other bird once more. 

“My friend,” sang he softly, as he 
caught the stem of a fine cherry 
in his beak and flew to the chair 
again, “ here is a fine cherry for 
you Oh ! oh ! ” 





WHAT MY LITTLE BROTHER THINKS. 


I I I 


Well might Mr. Cock Robin say “Oh !” for there stood the other robin 
on just such a chair, offering him a cherry in the most polite manner ! 

“ Thanks ! ” said Mr. Cock Robin. “ But, my deaf and dumb friend, 
as we each have one, we need not stand on cer-e-mo-ny.” 

So both began to eat. 

“He is a fine, sociable fellow, after all,” said Mr. Cock Robin. 

The door opened, and in came a little girl. 

“ What ’s that ? ” cried Mr. Cock Robin faintly to himself. 

The girl clapped her hands for joy, and ran toward him. 

Up flew Mr. Cock Robin in a great fright. He whisked past the looking- 
glass and saw that the other robin was badly scared also. Then he tried to 
fly out of a closed window where there were no blinds ; but he only dashed 
against some very hard kind of air that hurt his sides. If he had been like 
you, he would have known that it was window-glass, and not hard air. 

“ Poor birdie ! ” said the little girl, as she threw open the window. 
“You shall go out if you want to.” 

In an instant, Mr. Cock Robin was flying through the sunlight to his 
little wife. 

“ Where have you been ? ” chirped she, as he reached the nest. 

“ Oh, I Ve been on a visit,” said Mr. Cock Robin — and he told her 
all about it. 

Soon Mrs. Cock Robin said, softly : “ I should like to see that other one. 
Was he very handsome, my dear ? ” 

“ Handsome ! ” cried Mr. Robin, sharply. “ Handsome ! Not at all, my 
dear — a very homely bird, indeed ! Y es, ma’am — very homely, and as deaf 
as a post.” 

“ How dreadful ! ” sighed Mrs. Cock Robin. 


WHAT MY LITTLE BROTHER THINKS. 

My little brother is — oh, so funny ! 

He thinks that a king is made of money; 

He thinks little cherubs, overhead, 

Hold up the stars to light us to bed. 

He thinks that near those cherubs, but under, 
Are other cherubs who cause the thunder ; 


WHAT MY LITTLE BROTHER THINKS. 


They roll great tables and chairs around, 

And growl and roar with an awful sound. 

He thinks some quick little cherub scratches, 
To make the lightning, a million matches ; 
Another carries a watering-pot 
To wet the earth when it gets too hot. 

He thinks — my brother is, oh, so knowing ! — 
A feather-bed cherub does all the snowing ; 

He thinks the feathers come sailing down, 

And make the snow that whitens the town. 

He thinks that a painted mask can eat him ; 
Or pull his hair ; or chase and beat him. 

Yes, really thinks a mask is alive ! 

But my little brother is only five. 

He thinks little fairies make the clamor 
In grandpa’s watch, with a tiny hammer. 

He thinks some fairies can live in a book ; 

Or dance in kettles, to frighten cook. 

He thinks the grasshoppers bring molasses ; 
That a fairy over the bright moon passes ; 

He thinks my Jack-in-the-box is alive, 

Like witches who go to the sky for a drive. 

He thinks our “ sis ” is her dolly’s mother — 
My dear, absurd little baby brother ! 

Yes, thinks he is uncle, and feels quite grand 
To lead his niece about by the hand ! 

But, the best of all, he is really certain 
He once saw Santa Claus through the curtain 
And he thinks Old Santy ’ll come by and by, 
On Christmas Eve — and so do I. 


WHAT MY LITTLE BROTHER THINKS 






PECKY AND THE LITTLE GIRL. 


114 


WHAT THE PARROT TAUGHT THE LITTLE GIRL. 

Pecky was just a poor poll parrot, with nothing of his own but his 
pretty gray feathers and sharp beak, that could bite little fingers when 
they came too near his cage ; and yet this same Pecky taught Katie 
Scott a very useful lesson. When he was first brought home, Katie 
was just the happiest little girl ! “ Mamma ! ” she cried. “ Mamma, please, 

he must be placed where he can see Libbie and Mary play croquet!” 

Libbie and Mary lived next door, and, when the weather was fine, the 
three friends — Katie, Libbie and Mary — used to have fine games on the 
lawn between the two houses. 

There were four friends when Pecky came, for he was put close by 
the window, where he could see the fun. Before long, he learned many 
new words. He would cry, “Croquet her away! Take care, Katie! I 
have won! Ha! ha! ha!” And he could laugh louder than any of 
them. They thought there never was such a wonderful pet. 

Katie told her mamma it was “just the cunningest, nicest little polly 
in the world.” So it was ; and Katie was one of the nicest little girls 
in the world when she could have what she wanted, but sometimes little 
people want what is not good for them. One day, at dinner, mamma said : 

“You can’t have any more melon, Katie dear ; it will make you ill !” 

I hope none of the little girls and boys who read this would do as 
Katie Scott did; — I am really sorry to have to tell it; — she threw herself 
on the floor, and kicked and screamed so loudly, that Libbie and Mary, 
who were playing outside, heard her. 

“What is that noise?” asked Mary. 

“Oh!” said Libbie, “it is just Katie Scott — Cry-baby /” 

Libbie did not know that she was heard, but such was the case. 
Mr. Pecky had two little sharp ears open, and turning one up and then 
the other, he walked up and down chuckling to himself, as much as to say : 
“I guess I know what that means!” And then he cried softly, imitating 
Katie’s voice: “Boo — hoo ! Boo, hoo, hoo!” 

He did not forget it for a whole week, and I am glad to say that, 
for a while, his little mistress was a perfectly good girl. 

But there came a day — a damp, cold day — and mamma said there 
could be no croquet. Katie forgot that she was trying to be good, and, 
lying down near Pecky’s perch, screamed like a very naughty child. 

Pecky thought so, I know. He watched her some time, then jumped 


PECKY AND THE LITTLE GIRL 


”5 

down to the floor of his cage, crying: “ Bo-o-o-o ! Boo, hoo ! Bo-o-o-o ! ” 
Katie very quickly stopped crying, peeped up at him, and ran out of the 
room very much ashamed. Mamma and Aunt Jane laughed, and Pecky 
thought : “I must have done something very funny. I ’ll just do it again ! 
Oh, yes, I’ll do it again!” 

And he did it all that day, whenever any one came into the room. 



PECKY. 

When mamma was putting Katie to bed that evening, a little voice 
whispered : “ Mamma, wont you make Pecky stop doing that f n 

What do you think mamma said? She whispered to Katie: “When 
Polly does not see any little girl doing so, I am sure he will forget it.” 

“ Then I ’ll never do so any more !” said Katie. And she kept her word. 


TEN LITTLE GENTLEMEN 





i 


tony’s first stilts. 


II 7 


TONY’S FIRST STILTS. 




where’s tony ? 



FOUR YEARS OLD. 


8 


FOUR YEARS OLD. 


By L. G. Warner. 



Bright in the early morning 
His brown eyes open wide, 

And there ’s never a wink more slumber 
To be thought of at his side. 



Awake from his hair all a-tumble 
To the tips of his springing toes, 
Into his clothes he dances, 

And down to his breakfast goes. 


Then out with his little barrow, 

And where, oh ! where is his spade ? 
To-day his corn must be planted, 

And all of his garden made. 



“to-day his corn must be planted.” 




Don’t speak to him, — proud young farmer, 
Half lost in his big straw hat ; 

If you dare to suggest an errand, 

Not a minute has he for that ! 


Ten minutes, and “Where is my hammer 
And nails ? — drate big uns,” he calls. 

Lo ! his garden is turned to a cellar, 

And now he must put up his walls ! 


AND DOWN TO HIS BREAKFAST GOES.” 




FOUR YEARS OLD. 


I 19 



What, you, my brave young farmer? 
“Oh no, I ’m a builder now. 

I build big barns and houses; 

Come out and I ’ll show you how.” 

Soon, starting, he hears the oxen 
Dragging the big hay-cart; 

And, houses and barns forgotten, 
Away he flees like a dart. 



SO, WHIP ON HIS SHOULDER, HE MARCHES.” 


“ Please, Hugh, let me be driver; 

I ’ll keep right here by the side.” 

So, whip on his shoulder, he marches 
With more than a soldier’s pride. 

Now back, calling, “ Mamma, mamma, 
Here ’s a ’tunnin’ hop-stool for you ; 

’T was growing close up by the fountain, — 
Oh dear ! now what shall I do ? 



“ WHOA ! WHO ’ll HAVE A RIDE WITH ME ? ” 


Why, there is my fast, wild Rollo, — 
Whoa ! who ’ll have a ride with me ? 
This small one ’s my work-horse, ‘ Daisy ; 
He’s steady and old, you see.” 

So, hour after hour, through the daytime, 
He works and plays with a will ; 

The brown little hands always busy, 

The quick little feet never still, 



120 


A PRETTY SURE SHOT 



“please, is n’t it story time?” 



“good-night ! I LOVE YOU ! ” 


Until, when at last the evening 
Drops down like a soothing chime, 

A tired little voice comes calling, 
“Please, is n’t it story time?” 

Then, two dear arms, all caressing, 

Are ’round me, and sweet, low words 


I hear, — as gentle and tender 
As the cooing good-night of birds. 

And he, the bright eyes half-closing, 
With kisses on cheek and brow, 

Says softly, “ Good-night ! I love you ! 
I ’m only your little boy now.” 



A PRETTY SURE SHOT. 


THE LAUGHING DUCK. 


I 2 I 


THE LAUGHING DUCK. 

Once there was a little boy, who lived in a pretty house in the country. 
Near the house, quite outside the garden wall, was a small pond, where 
ducks swam ; and this little boy, whose name was Tom, liked to watch the 
ducks whenever his mamma or his nurse, or whoever he happened' to be 
with, had time to stop, for Tom was not a big enough boy to play alone 
by the pond. 

One morning, as he was coming from the village with his older brother 


Joe, a large duck came waddling up on the border of the pond, and 
stretched out its neck, and said : 

“ Quack, qua-qua-qua-qua-qua-qua-qua.” 

“ Hear that duck laugh ! ” said little Tom. 

“O yes,” said Joe, who was quite a tease, “he’s laughing at you!” 

“ I did n’t do anything,” said Tom, much troubled. 

“ Qua-qua-qua-qua-qua-qua-qua ! said the duck. 

“Shut the gate, Joe,” said Tom. “I don’t want to hear that duck 
laugh.” 

Tom thought about the duck after he was at home, and wondered 
about it, and felt very much annoyed. 

“Well, I ’ll ask him what he was laughing at,” he said; and, a few 



122 


grandpapa’s new slipper. 


hours later, finding the front door open and no one in sight, he ran out 
across the lawn, down the avenue, past the stables and hen-yard, and out 
of the gate down to the little pond where the ducks swam. The ducks, 
seeing the little boy coming so close to them, thought he meant to harm 
them, and, as before, one came up out of the water, and, stretching out 
its neck, said : “ Quack, qua-qua-qua-qua-qua.” 

“ What are you laughing at ? ” said Tom. “ Wont you tell me ? I 
don’t like you to laugh at me. You are a horrid, naughty duck.” 

Tom’s papa, who was walking by, saw his little boy all alone, and 
without his hat, by the duck-pond. He called out to him, and Tom 
came running to meet him. Still the angry duck cried, “ Quack, qua- 
qua-qua-qua-qua-qua ! ” 

“ Papa,” said Tom, almost crying, “ the duck is laughing at me, and I 
did n’t do anything.” 

“ Then why do you mind his laughing ? ” 

“ Because I don’t like him to laugh at me.” 

“ My boy,” said his papa, ‘ the duck is not laughing. That is the 
only way he has of talking. He can’t make any other noise. But it 
would be well to remember that when you have done no wrong you need 
not fear being laughed at, and there will be always foolish people ready 
to laugh at the noblest things you do.” 



Grandpapa’s new slipper, 
Lying on the rug ; 

Little saucy kitty-cat 

Thinks it wondrous snug. 


Humpy little gray back, 

Arched above the toes; 

Does she think she ’s out of sight 
If she hides her nose ? 


oh! i’m my mamma’s lady- girl 


123 



Oh ! I ’m my mamma’s lady-girl, 
And I must sit quite still ; 

It would not do to jump and whirl, 
And get my hair all out of curl, 
And rumple up my frill. 

No, I’m my mamma’s lady-girl, 

So I must sit quite still. 


124 


JAMIE'S RABBITS. 


JAMIE’S RABBITS. 

These rabbits belong - to little Jamie, who lives in the city almost all 
the year. A year ago last winter he was very sick, and, when spring 

came, his mamma took him to the country on a farm, so that he might 

grow well and strong. 

The old farmer was very fond of Jamie, and one day brought home a 
large basket with a handle at the middle and a lid at each side of the 
handle. 

All the folks soon came around to see what was in the basket, but 

the farmer said that Jamie must have the first look. Then he set the 

basket down on the floor, and told Jamie to lift up the lids, and what he 
should see he could have for his very own ! Jamie took a peep with 
great care, and what do you think he saw ? Why, two lovely bunnies, — 
one all black and the other all white, and the white one had pink eyes ! 
Jamie was so glad that he let fall the lids at once and gave a cry of 
joy. Then he jumped up and down and clapped his hands, and put his 
arms about the old farmer’s neck, and gave him a good hug and a kiss. 
After that he took the bunnies to show them to his mamma, and she 
was glad too, and kissed him, and said he must take great care of them 
and be kind to them. 

Before very long, the old farmer made a small house or hutch to 
keep the rabbits in, and he and Jamie fed them day by day. They were 
fond of carrots and turnips and cabbage, and Jamie would go with the 
farmer into the garden and get these things, and put them in a little 
basket, and take them to the hutch. Soon the rabbits knew it was meal- 
time when they saw Jamie come with the basket, and then they would 
prick up their long ears, and look as if they would like to be polite and 
say, “ Thank you ! ” 

One day, Jamie found them just as you see them in the picture. 
There was a strange doll with them in the hutch, but he did not know 
who had put it there. The rabbits did not feel quite safe with the doll. 
Blackie feared it might hurt, so he kept behind his friend, out of harm’s 
way. Whitey eyed the doll a long time, as if he hoped it might at last 
prove to be good to eat. 

The doll was bald, but he did not look old or worn by care. He 
did not seem to mind the rabbits at all. If he had known how hungry 


JAMIE’S RABBITS. 


12=; 


they were, he might have wished to run off, and not stay there and 
smile, and hang his head and arms and legs in that loose way. 

Jamie loved his little bunnies very much, and when the time came for 
him to leave them and go back to the city, he was very, very sorry. 



jamie's rabbits. 

But his mamma said her little boy could go to them again next summer, 
and the old farmer said he would do his best for them through the 
winter. 

So Jamie tried not to fret. He is a good boy, and deserves to have 
pretty bunnies, for he takes fine care of them. 

And — what do you think? Three weeks ago, Jamie was taken to the 
country to see his bunnies, and he will stay with them till cold weather 
comes again. 


1 26 


THE BEE AND THE BUTTERFLY 



THE BEE AND 

“ Dear me ! dear me ! ” 

Said a busy bee, 

“I’m always making honey, — 

No time to play, 

But work all day. 

Is n’t it very funny — 

Very, very funny?” 


THE BUTTERFLY. 

“ Oh, my ! oh, my ! ” 

Said a butterfly, 

“I’m always eating honey; 
And yet I play 
The livelong day. 

Is n’t it very funny — 
Very, very funny?” 



TOMMY HOPPER’S CHOICE. 


127 



TOMMY HOPPER’S CHOICE. 


Tommy Hopper and his sister Susan were standing one day before a toy- 
shop window. Tommy had twenty-five cents, and he was trying to decide 
what he would buy. But although there were balls, and bats, and hoops, 
and kites, and boxes of tools, rocking-horses, sleds, steamboats with real 
engines, boxes of games, ninepins, battledores and shuttlecocks, steam-cars 
that moved along a track just like real ones (only not so fast), babies that 


128 


TOMMY HOPPER’S CHOICE. 


crept on their hands and knees if you wound them up, little boys riding on 
velocipedes, great big humming-tops, and jack-straws, and dear knows what 
all, Tommy did not hesitate long. In less than half a minute he chose a 
rocking-horse. 

“Oh! you can’t buy that for twenty-five cents, Tommy!” cried Susan. 
“You must choose something cheaper.” 

Tommy hesitated a little now. The next thing he chose was a box of 
tools. 

“ Oh ! you little goose ! ” cried Susan. “ That box would cost two or three 
dollars. Is n’t there any small thing that you like which does not cost more 
than a quarter ? ” 

Tommy was now silent for some time. At last Tommy made a hit : “ One 
of those creeping babies,” said he. 

“ Oh ! I can’t buy that,” said Susan, a little impatient. 

“Why, that is ever so little,” said Tommy, firmly. 

“ But, I tell you, you can’t buy that for twenty-five cents,” said Susan. 
“ Don’t you know it creeps ? ” 

“ It ’s littler than our baby at home,” said Tommy, grumly. 

“Well,” said Susan, “you could n’t buy that for twenty-five cents.” 

“Yes, I could,” said Tommy. 

“You little simpleton!” said Susan, laughing, and shaking him by the 
shoulders. “If you don’t choose something quickly, I ’ll go away ! ” 

“No, you wont,” said Tommy. “ I have n’t choosed anything yet, and you 
said you ’d wait till I did.” 

But he liked so many things, and changed his mind so often, that his sister 
at last said she was tired, and must go home. 

“Here, Tommy,” she said, as she went away. “You will have to take 
care of the money, and buy something for yourself.” 

Tommy was delighted to be free from Susan. She bothered him in his 
choice. Now he felt he could pick out something he would like, without her 
all the time telling him that each thing cost too much. So he walked boldly 
into the store with his twenty-five cents. 

After looking around a moment, he stepped up to the man at the counter : 

“ I want one of those sleds,” said he, pointing to a number of handsomely 
painted sledges near the door. 

“Which one will you have?” said the man, coming out from behind the 
counter, “this green one, or the blue one with red runners? ” 

Tommy hesitated. The blue one was very handsome, but the green one 
had a horse painted on the seat. 

“ I ’ll take the green one,” said he, at last. 

“That is three dollars and a half,” said the man, looking at Tommy, and 
noticing, apparently for the first time, what a very little boy he was. 

“ But it’s too much,” said Tommy. “ I ’ve only got a quarter.” 

The man laughed. 

“You ought to have known whether you had money enough or not, before 
you asked for it,” said he. 


TOMMY HOPPER’S CHOICE. 


129 


“Are all sleds more’n a quarter?” asked Tommy. 

“Yes,” said the shopman. 

“ Good-by,” said Tommy, and out he marched. 

On his way home he passed a peanut-stand. Tommy stepped up to the 
man and demanded twenty-five cents’ worth of peanuts. Peanuts were 
cheap in those days, and when Tommy’s little pockets were all full, and his 
hat would scarcely go on his head for nuts, and he had even stuffed some in 
the waist-band of his trousers, there were yet ever so many peajiuts and no 
place to put them. 

“Bother on twenty-five cents!” said Tommy. “In some places it’s too 
little, and in some places it’s too much.” 



WHAT MIGHT HAPPEN TO A LITTLE BOY WHO WILL NOT HAVE HIS HAIR BRUSHED. 


I I 


130 


THE BELL-RINGERS 



THE BELL-RINGERS. 


Ding-dong ! ding-dong . ding ! 

The bell-ring-ers in the pict-ure are re-al cats. Their names are Jet, 
Blanche, Tom, Mop and Tib. Jet is Black; Blanche is white as snow; 
Tom stands in the mid-dle ; Mop is next; and Tib, who has the small-est 
bell, has. to reach high-est to ring it. 

These five bright lit-tle cats — Jet, Blanche, Tom, Mop and Tib — have 


THE BELL-RINGERS. 


131 

been trained to do won-der-ful tricks. They can stand up and beg like 
dogs ; they can lie down and play that they are fast a-sleep ; they can 
march in a row like sol-diers ; more than all, they can ring the bells in 
good time, so soft-ly and sweet-ly that the music is pret-ty e-nough for 
Christ-mas chimes. 

Mr. Bow-en tells a-bout them in a Lon-don book called “ The Chil- 
dren’s Friend.” He says the mas-ter who taught them to ring the bells 
was al-ways ver-y kind and gen-tle. They knew that he loved them, and 
that when-ev-er they tried to learn their les-son well, he would give them 
a nice meal of fish. 

Cats like fish as well as you like can-dy, — bet-ter than you like a can-dy 
fish ; so you see they must have felt, when they gave the ropes a good 
pull, that, some-how, they were ring-ing their own din-ner-bell. At first 
the pus-sies found it ver-y hard to catch hold of the bell-rope ; but when 
their mas-ter put soft bunch-es of wool up-on the cord, so that the pus-sies 
could fast-en their sharp lit-tle claws in-to it, they took hold with a good 
will. 

“ Ding-dong ! Thank you, Mas-ter,” they seemed to say. “ This is 
some-thing like ! ” 

Some-times the pus-sies would not a-gree ver-y well. Tib would get 
tired of her short rope, and try to get hold of Jet’s. Then Blanche and 
Tom would join in the fight; the ropes would get twisted; all the bells 
would ring out of tune, and Mop would “ me-ouw ” with all her might. 
But the dread-ful noise would soon bring them to their senses ; and the 
mo-ment they were good, the sweet mu-sic would come a-gain and make 
them hap-py. 

When the pus-sies were not do-ing their fun-ny tricks, they would walk 
a-bout just like any oth-er cats, or lie down on the rug and doze. Some- 
times, in their sleep, they would wave their tails slow-ly, and then their 
mas-ter would say : 

“ Bless ’em ! They are dream-ing of the bells.” 

If he called to them, they would spring to his side and rub their cool 
noses a-gainst his hand, or, jump-ing up-on his knee, they would look 
up in-to his face, as if to say : 

“ Good mas-ter ! you look tired. Poor dear ! you are on-ly a man. 
But you may de-pend up-on our help. We know ver-y well that if it 
were not for us cats there would be no bells rung in the world.” 

The mas-ter would smile at this, and stroke them fond-ly ; then the 
fire-light would play a-bout their forms as, one by one, they would set-tie 
soft-ly up-on the rug for an-oth-er nap. 




[32 


MY UNCLE JEHOSHAPHAT. 


MY UNCLE JEHOSHAPHAT. 



My Uncle Jehoshaphat had a pig, 

A pig of high degree ; 

And it always wore a brown scratch wig, 
Most beautiful for to see. 

My Uncle Jehoshaphat loved that pig, 

And the piggy-wig he loved him ; 

And they both jumped into the lake one day, 
To see which best could swim. 


SHE PUTS IT IN ITS LITTLE BED. 


133 


My Uncle Jehoshaphat he swam up, 

And the piggy-wig he swam down ; 

And so they both did win the prize, 

Which the same was a velvet gown. 

My Uncle Jehoshaphat wore one half, 

And the piggy-wig wore the other ; 

And they both rode to town on the brindled calf, 
To carry it home to its mother. 



“she puts it in its little bed." 


i34 


THE CRY-BABY. 


THE CRY-BA-BY. 

Fred is a lit-tle boy, but a great cry-ba-by. He cries in the morn-ing, 
he cries at noon, he cries at night. He cries when he is washed, when 
he is dressed, and when his hair is combed. He cries when he goes to 
school, and when he goes to bed. He cries be-cause his milk is hot, and 
be-cause his toast is cold ; be-cause his jack-et is too old, and be cause 
his boots are too new. It is queer how much Fred finds to cry a-bout. 

One day he went to see his Aunt Ma-ry. She gave him a nice thick 
piece of gin-ger-bread. She thought that would make him smile. Oh, 
no ! it made him cry. He just o-pened his mouth to take a bite, and 
then burst out with a loud “ boo-hoo ! ” 

“ Why, what is the mat-ter ? ” said Aunt Ma-ry. 

“This gin-ger-bread is too high up! ’’cried Fred. 

“There, there! What a sil-ly boy!” said Aunt Ma-ry. “Hark! I 
hear mu-sic ! The sol-diers are com-ing ! Let us look out and see them 
go by ! ” said the kind aunt-y. 

She put Fred up in a chair at the win-dow, and he saw the sol-diers 
march by, and heard the mu-sic ; and all the time he munched a-way at 
the gin-ger-bread that was “too high up.” By the time the last sol-dier 
had passed, the gin-ger-bread was all gone. 

“ Now Fred is a good lit-tle boy,” said Aunt Ma-ry. But all at once 
he be-gan to cry a- gain. “ Oh, dear ! What is it now ? ” said Aunt-y. 
“What are you cry ing a-bout this time?” 

“Boo-hoo! boo-hoo!” roared Fred. “I can’t ’mem-ber what I cried 
a-bout be-fore the mu-sic came ! Boo-hoo ! boo-hoo ! ” 

Aunt Ma ry put on Fred’s cap and took him home, and called the 
fam-i-ly to-geth-er. 

“What are you go-ing to do with this boy?” she said. “He cries all 
the time !” 

“Let us all laugh at him ev-er-y time he cries!” said Mam-ma. 

“ That will make too much noise,” said Pa-pa. “ I think I ’ll get him 
the place of town-cri-er, and let him earn his liv-ing by cry-ing.” 

“ He can be a news-boy, and cry news-pa-pers ! ” said lit-tle Mol-ly. 

“We might make a great dunce-cap, with CRY-BA-BY print-ed on it 
in big let-ters, and make him wear it all the time he cries,” said Sis-ter 
Sue. “ That would make him a-shamed.” 

“ What do you say, Char-ley ? ” said Aunt Ma-ry. 




BERTHA AND THE BIRDS. 135 

“ Set him up in the Park for a drink-ing fount-ain, and let streams of 
wa-ter come out of his eyes all the time!” said Char-ley. 

“ Well,” said Aunt-y, “ I hard-ly know which is the best plan ; but 
some-thing must be done, or Fred will nev-er grow to be a man!” 


BER-THA AND THE BIRDS. 



Lit-tle Ber-tha stood at the win-dow, one morn-ing in win-ter, when 
there came a flock of snow-birds and lit on the tree and bush-es in the yard. 

“ Oh, you poor lit-tle bird- 
ies ! You have no one to 
give you any-thing to eat. 

I ’ll get you some nice 
crumbs ” 

So she ran to mam-ma, 
who gave her bread-crumbs 
and let her throw them 
out-doors. She was much 
pleased to see the birds eat, 
but soon saw some-thing 
that made her feel ver-y 
baddy. 

“ Oh, how cold your poor 
lit-tle feet must be ! I ’ll 
i give you my dol-lies’ shoes 
and stock-ings — so I will ! ” 
And a-way she went to 
find them. 

But when she came back 
the bird-ies were all gone. 

Mam-ma told her that 
the Good Fath-er had 
so made their lit-tle feet, 
that they were in no need 
of such things to keep them warm. And then good lit-tle Ber-tha was 
quite hap-py a-gain. 



1 3 6 


THE LITTLE GENTLE BIRDS 



“ See how the little gentle birds, 

Without a fear of ill, 

Come to the murmuring waters’ edge 
And freely drink their fill. 

And dash about, and splash about, 

The merry little things ! 

And look askance with bright black eyes, 
And flirt their dripping wings. ” 




THE FLOCK OF DOVES. 


137 


THE FLOCK OF DOVES. 


By Celia Thaxter. 


The world was like a wilderness 
Of soft and downy snow ; 

The trees were plumed with feathery flakes, 
And the ground was white below. 

Came the little mother out to the gate 
To watch for her children three ; 

Her hood was red as a poppy-flower, 

And rosy and young was she. 


And then she hid by the pine-tree tall, 

For the children’s tones rang sweet, 

As home from school, through the drifts so light, 
They sped with merry feet. 

“Oh, Nannie, Nannie ! See the fence 
Alive with doves so white ! ” 

“ Oh, hush ! don’t frighten them away ! ” 

They whisper with delight. 



THE SNOW DOVES. 


She took the snow in her cunning hands, 
As waiting she stood alone, 

And lo ! in a moment, beneath her touch, 
A fair white dove had grown. 


They crept so soft, they crept so still, 
The wondrous sight to see ! 

The little mother pushed the gate, 
And laughed out joyfully. 


A flock she wrought, and on the fence 
Set them in bright array, 

With folded wings, or pinions spread 
Ready to fly away. 


She clasped them close, she kissed their cheeks, 
And lips so sweet and red. 

“ The birds are only made of snow ! 

You are my doves,” she said. 



TONY’S LETTER. 




TONY’S LETTER. 

Peter was a funny little boy, who had a dog named Tony. This dog 
was all covered with long shaggy hair, which hung down over his eyes 
and his mouth, and made him look very wise. But Tony was not as wise 
as he looked, and he did not know as much as little Peter thought he knew. 

Peter was only three years old. He did not know all the alphabet, but 
he knew what letters spelled his own name. 

Peter was very fond of what he called “ writing letters.” He would 
scribble all over a piece of paper, and then fold it up and get his sister Emily 
to write on it the name of one of the family, or else of one of the neighbors. 
Then Peter would carry it to that person ; and he very often got a written 
answer, which Emily would read to him. Sometimes these answers had 
candy in them, which pleased Peter very much. 

One day, Peter wrote a long letter to his dog Tony. When he gave 
it to him, Tony took it in his mouth and carried it to the rug in front of 
the fire in the sitting-room. There he laid it down, and put his nose to 
it. Then he laid himself down, with his head on the letter, and shut his 
eyes. He was sleepy, and he found that the letter was not good to eat. 

Peter was very glad to see Tony do this, for he thought he had read 
the letter and was thinking what he should say when he answered it. 

So little Peter said, “Tony shall write me an answer to my letter,” and 
he ran into his grandma’s room, to ask for a pencil. She was not there, 
but on the table there was some paper, and an inkstand with a quill pen 
in it. His grandma always used a quill pen. 

So Peter took a big sheet of paper and the inkstand with the pen in 
it. Then he saw his grandma’s spectacles on the table, and he thought he 
would take these too, as Tony might write better if he had spectacles on. 

Peter waked Tony, who was fast asleep by this time, and made him 
hold his head up. Peter put the spectacles on Tony, and laid the paper 
before him. Then he set the inkstand down, close to his right paw. 

“ Now, Tony,” said Peter, “ you must write me a letter.” 

Tony looked at the little boy, but he did not take the pen. 

“ There, Tony ! ” said Peter. “ There ’s the ink and the pen. Don’t 
you see them ? ” And he pushed the inkstand against Tony’s paw. 

The dog gave the inkstand a tap with his paw, and over it went ! 

“Oh!” cried Peter. “You naughty dog! Upsetting grandma’s ink- 
stand!” And he picked up the inkstand as quickly as he could. Some of 
the ink had run out on the paper, but none of it had gone on the carpet. 

Peter took off Tony’s spectacles, and drove him away; and then, with 


TONY’S LETTER 


139 



what he called the “tail” of the quill pen (by which he meant the feather 
end), he spread the ink about on the paper. 

Then he took the paper up by a corner, and carried it to his mother. 


TONY. 

“ Mamma !” said he, “See the letter Tony wrote to me. He upset the 
inkstand, but none of the letter runned off on the carpet ! ” 

Tony never wrote another letter, and that was the last time that little 
Peter meddled with his grandma’s pen and ink. 



140 


JOHN BOTTLEJOHN. 



The cat and dog resolved to be good, 
Truly kind and forgiving. 

“ What ’s the use,” they sweetly said, 

“ Of such unpleasant living?” 


So Pussy took her dear Tray’s arm, 

And out they sallied over the farm ; 

And all who saw them laughed with glee, 

And, wondering, said, “Can such things be?’’ 


JOHN BOTTLEJOHN. 


By Laura E. Richards. 


Little John Bottlejohn lived on the hill, 

And a blithe little man was he; 

And he won the heart of a little mermaid 
Who lived in the deep blue sea. 

And every evening she used to sit 
And sing on the rocks by the sea: 

“Oh, little John Bottlejohn! pretty John Bottlejohn! 

Wont you come out to me?” 

Little John Bottlejohn heard her song, 

And he opened his little door; 

And he hopped and he skipped, and he skipped and he hopped 
Until he came down to the shore. 



JOHN BOTTLEJOHN. 


141 


And there on a rock sat the little mermaid, 

And still she was singing so free — 

“ Oh, little John Bottlejohn ! pretty John Bottlejohn ! 
Wont you come out to me?” 


Little John Bottlejohn made a bow, 

And the mermaid she made one, too, 

And she said : “ Oh ! I never saw anything half 
So perfectly sweet as you. 



In my beautiful home, ’neath the ocean foam, 

How happy we both should be ! 

Oh, little John Bottlejohn ! pretty John Bottlejohn ! 
Wont you come down with me?” 


Little John Bottlejohn said : “ Oh, yes, 

I ’ll willingly go with you ; 

And I never will quail at the sight of your tail, 
For perhaps I may grow one too.” 

So he took her hand, and he left the land, 

And he plunged in the foaming main ; 

And little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn, 
Never was seen again. 




142 


grandma's nap. 


GRANDMA’S NAP. 


By M. M. D. 





One day, Grand-ma went to sleep in her chair, and it near-ly turned the 
town up-side down. It was only a lit-tle bit of a nap, but oh ! how much 
trou-ble it made ! 

You see, be-sides the nap, there was a lit-tle boy in the house. This 

lit-tle boy’s name was Rob, and Rob 
was so hard to watch that when his 
Mam-ma went out she used to say: 

“ Grand-ma, do you think you can 
watch Rob while I go to mar-ket?” 

Then Grand-ma would give a lit-tle 
jump and say : 

“ O ! of course I can.” 

So this day Mam-ma went to mar- 
ket, and Grand-ma watched Rob as 
hard as she could till the NAP came ! 
As soon as Rob saw the nap, he knew he was free ; and off he ran. 
In a mo-ment Grand-ma woke up and 
saw the emp-ty room. 

“ Sake ’s a-live ! ” she cried, as she ran 
out in-to the hall. “ Where is that child ?” 

He was not in the hall, nor in the yard, 
nor any-where a-bout the house. Oh ! 
oh ! oh ! where could he be ! 

The poor old la-dy was sure she nev-er 
would see the dear boy a-gain. In her 

fright she looked 
in the beds, un-der 

the beds, in the pan-try, in the coal-scut-tle, in the 
ice-pitch-er, and even in the crack-er-box. Then 
she ran out to a po-lice-man, and told him all 
a-bout it. » 

“ Mad-am,” said the po-lice-man, “ it is not like-ly 
he can be found. I think he is gone for good ; but 
we ’ll send a cri-er all over the town.” 

So the cri-er went all over the town with a big 
bell, scream-ing: 


grandma’s nap. 


143 






“ Hear ! hear ! Boy lost, named Rob, — black eyes, pug- nose. Boy lost ! 
boy lost!” (Ding, dong.) “Boy lost, three years old!” (Ding, dong.) 

The cri-er made such a noise that if Rob had screamed 
out “ Here I am ! ” right un-der his nose, he would not 
have heard it ; or if all the men on the street had called, 
“ Stop that bell — here ’s Rob, safe and sound,” it would 
have been just the same. He would have gone on 
ring-ing the bell and scream-ing at the top of his 
voice, “ Boy lost! boy lost !” 

But Rob was not un-der 
the boy’s nose at all. Where 
. was he ? 

Poor Grand-ma was al-most cra-zy by this 
time. She ran in-to the yard with a kind man 
and looked down the well. 

“ Rob-by ! Rob-by, my dar-ling ! are you 
there ? Come to Grand-ma, my pet. Oh ! oh !” 

Then she ran back in-to the street, and there 
he was with an or-gan man ! 

Grand-ma was sure it was Rob, from the way he hopped a-bout. But no. 

When she put on her glass-es it was not Rob 
at all — only a mon-key. 

By this time near-ly the whole town knew 
that Rob was lost. Such a time you nev-er 
heard. All the grand-mas cried and said it 
was very wrong to take a nap when you 
were watch-ing a child like that ; and all the 
lit-tle boys thought how nice it would be to 
live with Rob’s grand- 
ma. The pa-pas went 
to the sta-tion-house to in-quire ; the mam-mas ran 
to mar-ket to tell Rob’s mam-ma ; and the news-boys 
ran all o-ver town with “ ex-tras,” cry-ing, “ Boy lost ! 
boy lost ! ” 

When Rob’s mam-ma heard the bad news, she ran 
home as fast as she could go. 

“Rob-by! Rob-by!” she called, up and down the 
house. “ Rob-by ! Rob-by !” But no one an-swered. 

Then she turned pale, and Grand-ma said, “ Don’t 
faint ; that ’s a good child,” when all at once the poor 


144 


FREDDY. 


Mam-ma clasped her hands and said : “He must be killed ! If he were 
a-live he would hear me. I know he must be dead, 
or else — or else — he is eat-ing jam ! ” 

She flew to the cel-lar where all the good things 
were kept. Grand-ma hob-bled after her, quite 
tired out ; then fol-lowed the po-lice-man, the cri-er, 
and the cook ; and there, down in the cel-lar, jilst 
as hap-py as he could be, sat Rob — eat-ing jam. 

He was so hap-py that he did not know that his 
Grand-ma was a-wake ; and Grand-ma was so glad 
that she went up-stairs and took the nicest lit-tle 
nap she ev-er had in all her life. 


FREDDY. 

By Annie E. McDonald. 

and one of the bright-est lit-tle ca-na-ries ev-er 
seen. He came from Bel-gi-um. His bod-y is of a deep yel-low col-or, 
and his head and wings are pret-ti-ly marked with grey and black. When 
giv-en to us he was quite a young bird, and scarce-ly knew how to do 
any-thing ; but he soon be-gan to learn ma-ny lit-tle tricks. 

The pict-ure shows him just pull-ing up his bas-ket. When we put food 
in-to it, we shut the cov-er down, and hang it by a string to his perch ; 
and he al-ways pulls it up at once, lifts the cov-er and helps him-self. 
Oft-en, when his bas-ket is emp-ty, he a-mus-es him-self by try-ing to pick 
it to pie-ces. 

Fred-dy did not e-ven know how to bathe when we first had him, and 
we were told to put him in-to the wa-ter once or twice a week, so that he 
could learn ; but the poor lit-tle bird cried so pit-i-ful-ly, that af-ter one or 
two tri-als we gave it up. He has since found out for him-self how to 
jump in-to his lit-tle bath-tub and splash a-bout ; and he en-joys it ver-y 
much, es-pe-cial-ly when he can dry him-self in the sun. Then is the time 
to hear him sing ! His voice is so sweet, his eyes are so bright, and his 
lit-tle heart is so full of joy, that he makes ev-er-y one hap-py who hears 



VERY USEFUL AND VERY SLIM. 


145 


him. Then he has such a fun-ny, brisk way of hop-ping a-bout and crack- 
ing his seed, and he sharp-ens his bill on the cut-tie-fish bone as though 
he had twen-ty pairs of bills to sharp-en in-stead of one. 



But his song is not his on-ly mu-sic. Fred-dy has al-so a lit-tle bell, 
which he rings to ac-com-pa-ny the Grace Church chimes ; for this lit-tle 
bird 

“ dwells 

With-in sight of its walls, 

With-in sound of its bells.” 


Ver-y use-ful and ver-y slim ; 

Ver-y tidy and ver-y trim. 

Once a week they make a dis-play ; 

Aft-er that they are hid-den a-way. 

Two long legs and a ver-y small head ; 

If you can guess it, e-nough has been said. 


146 


THE CHEATED MOSQUITOES. 


THE CHEATED MOSQUITOES. 

By Clara Doty Bates. 



Little Gold Locks has gone to bed, 

Kisses are given and prayers are said. 

Mamma says, as she turns out the light, 

“ Mosquitoes wont bite my child to-night. 

They will try to come in, but wont know how, 
For the nets are in the windows now.” 



First Mosquito. That is the window where we 
go in ! 

Second Mosquito. Is little girl Gold Locks fat or 
thin ? 

Third Mosquito. O, plump as the plumpest dairy 
mouse ! 

Fourth Mosquito. And the sweetest morsel in the 
house. 

Fifth Mosquito. Hurry, I pray, and lead the 
way ! 

Sixth Mosquito. I have n’t had a bite to-day ! 

Chorus. Oh ! what shall we 


First Mosquito. What have I flown against now, 
I wonder ? 

Second Mosquito. There ’s something across here, 
let ’s crawl under ! 

Third Mosquito. These bars are as large as my 
body is ! 

Fourth Mosquito. I ’ve broken the point of my 
bill on this ! 

Fifth Mosquito. I ’m slim, perhaps I can crawl 
through ! 

Sixth Mosquito. Oh ! what shall I do ? Oh ! what 
shall I do? 

? Oh ! what shall we do ? 




BIRDIES SECRET. 


147 



A LITTLE girl, 

Quite well and hearty, 
Thought she ’d like 
To give a party. 


But as her friends 
Were shy and wary, 
Nobody came 

But her own canary. 


BIRDIE’S SECRET. 


By E. M. Tappan. 

I know something, but I sha’ n’t tell, 

’Cause the mother-bird whispered it just to me, 
What she ’d hidden away in the top of the tree. 

I know something, but I sha’ n’t tell, — 

Of something nice and soft and warm, 

To shelter the darlings from cold and storm. 

I know something, but I sha’ n’t tell; 

And by and by when the birdies are old, — 

O dear me ! I ’ve gone and told ! 



LITTLE GOO-GOO. 


LITTLE GOO-GOO. 


By Scott Campbell. 


We have in our house a brave little chap, 

Who loves to be in his dear mamma’s lap; 

He is laughing and singing the whole day long, 
And “Goo-goo-goo!” is all of his song. 

In his nice little cradle-bed he lies, 

Staring about with great, bright eyes; 

Baby, dear! what are you singing about?” 

But “ Goo-goo-goo ! ” is all I make out. 


He shakes his fists and kicks his feet, 

Because he is waiting for something to eat; 

And then speaks up, very loud and strong, 

And his “Goo-goo” means “I can’t wait long.” 


I catch up the darling and throw him high, 
And he reaches his hands to touch the sky ; 
But all that he says, to show his delight, 

Is “Goo-goo-goo!” with his baby might. 


Dear little pitkin ! what is your name ? ” 

But all the answer I get is the same. 

Oh ! what a name for a boy like you ! ” 

And he giggles and shouts his sweet “Goo-goo!” 


He crows “ Goo-goo ! ” before it is light, 

And sings “Goo-goo!” in the dead of the night; 
It is “ Goo-goo-goo ! ” the whole day long, 

And / think “ Goo-goo ! ” is a beautiful song. 

The little birdies say, “ Cheep ! cheep ! ” 

Ba ! Ba ! Ba ! ” says the baby-sheep ; 

But the sweetest song, I think — don’t you?- — 

Is our little darling’s “ Goo-goo-goo ! ” 


Oh ! how precious is little Goo-goo ! 

And, oh ! how we love him, little Goo-goo ! 

I pray that angels will guard him — don’t you ? 
And Father in Heaven bless little Goo-goo ! 


LITTLE GOO-GOO 


I49 



Little Peri- Winkle, 

With her eyes a-twinkle, 

Said, “ I am going to the ball to-night.” 

But nobody could wake her, 

Hard as they might shake her, 

For she went to sleep with her eyes shut tight, 
And never waked up till the sun shone bright. 


A SHORT-LIVED FAMILY 


150 


A SHORT-LIVED FAMILY. 

By Mary L. B. Branch. 

I heard little Gerty talking very earnestly over by the window-seat, 
and I looked around from my sewing just in time to see six as handsome 
blackberries as ever grew, standing in a group in the window. Gerty 
had grouped them. The two biggest and blackest were Mr. and Mrs. 



AUNT MARIA FALLS ON THE FLOOR. 


Jetty, and one that did not stand straight was Aunt Maria Jetty. Then 
there were Bob and Tom, and the smallest blackberry, which kept rolling 
over, was the Baby. Gerty did the talking for all of them. Tom seemed 
to be a naughty boy. 

“ I shall have to punish that boy !” said Mr. Jetty, sternly. “ He never 
learns his lessons ! ” 

“O, well!” said Mrs. Jetty, “perhaps the lessons were too hard. Tom, 
what on earth are you doing now ? Pinching the Baby ! Mr. Jetty, if 
you don’t whip that boy, I will !” 

Here Aunt Maria fell on the floor, and was found to have fainted 


A SHORT-LIVED FAMILY. 


151 


Great was the outcry among the Jettys, large and small, until she was 
lifted up and set on her feet again. 

“Never — mind — me !” she said, faintly. “Look at — the Baby!” 

Sure enough, the Baby had rolled over and over till it was on the very 
edge of the sill. It was snatched up, and handed to Bob to hold. Bob 
seemed to be a good boy; he sang “ Rockaby, Baby!” all through, while 
Tom had his ears boxed for tittering. 

Then Mr. Jetty said that the family ought to take a walk. They were 
all formed in a procession, the smallest being last. I watched them as 
they started off along the window-seat, the first one taking a step, then 
the next one, and so on. Then I bent my eyes upon my sewing again, 
but still I heard the play go on. 

Presently, in at the sitting-room door came little Susy Blake, a neigh- 
bor’s child, to play an hour with Gerty. So Gerty. told her all about the 
six blackberries, and what their names were, and what they were doing. 

“ O, that’s real fun,” said Susy; “I can play that too!” 

So, then, both little girls went on with the sport, and made the Jetty 
family say and do all sorts of funny things. Aunt Maria kept fainting 
away, and the children made a good deal of trouble, so there was a con- 
stant excitement. Right in the midst of it, Gerty’s mamma called from 
upstairs : 

“Gerty, Gerty, come up here quick, and try on your dress!” 

“ I ’ll be right back in a minute, Susy,” said Gerty as she left the 
room. “You keep on playing till I come back.” 

So Susy kept on playing, and now she had to do all the talking for 
the Jetty family herself. They seemed to be having a great dispute about 
something, but one by one the voices of the younger ones were silenced. 
Something was said about their being put to bed. Finally, it struck me 
that I had not heard Aunt Maria make any complaint for a good while. 
Mr. and Mrs. Jetty seemed to be having it all to themselves, till at last 
Mr. Jetty stopped, as if tired out, and his wife had the last word. 

“ I did n’t mean to be gone so long,” said Gerty, who came back into 
the room at this moment. “ I can’t bear to try on dresses. Why — why — 
why, Susy Blake ! ” 

And then she ran to me, crying. 

“O, Cousin Mary!” she sobbed, “she’s eaten them all up! Mr. Jetty 
and Mrs. Jetty, and Aunt Maria, and Bob, and Tom, and the Baby!” 

I turned my eyes toward the window-seat. There was not a black- 
berry left to tell the tale. But Susy’s lips were all stained with purple! 


152 


THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT. 





THE HOUSE THAT JACK 
BUILT. 


By Abby Morton Diaz 


Oh, Jack was the fellow who lived long ago, 
And built him a house, as you very well 
know, 

With chimneys so tall, and a cupola too, 
And windows set thick where the light could 
go through. 

And this is the house that Jack built. 


Now Jack he was so tender-hearted and true, 
He loved every dear little chiidling that grew. 
The old folk can do very well without me, 
And I ’ll be the friend of the children,” quoth 


So away in his store-room he stored up a 
heap 

Of corn-bags well filled, full seven yards 
deep ! 

While ranged very near them, in beautiful 
show, 

Were a great many corn-poppers, set in a 
row ! 

And this is the corn that lay in the 
house that Jack built. 


THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT. 


153 


And a blazing red fire was ever kept glowing, 

By a great pair of bellows that ever kept blow- 
ing; 

And there stood the children, the dear little souls, 
A-shaking their corn-poppers over the coals. 

Soon a motherly rat, seeking food for her young, 
Came prying and peeping the corn-bags among. 

“ I ’ll take home a supply,” said this kindest of 
mothers ; 

“ My children like corn quite as well as those 
others.” 

And this is the rat, &c. 


Just as Puss shuts her eyelids, oh ! what does she 
hear ? 

“ Bow-wow ! ” and “ Bow-wow ! ” very close at her 
ear. 

Now away up a pole all trembling she springs, 

And there, on its top, all trembling she clings. 

And this is the dog, &c. 

Said Bose to himself, “What a great dog am I ! 

When my voice is heard, who dares to come 
nigh ? 

Now I ’ll worry that cow. Ha, ha, ha ! Oh, if she 

Should run up a pole, how funny ’t would be ! ” 


“a-shaking their corn-poppers over the coals.” 



Run quick, Mother Rat ! Oh, if you but knew 
How slyly old Tabby is watching for you ! 

She’s creeping so softly — pray, pray do not wait ! 
She springs ! — she has grabbed you ! — ah, now 
’t is too late ! 

And this is the cat, &c. 

Too late, yes too late ! All your struggles are 
vain ; 

You never will see those dear children again ! 

All sadly they sit in their desolate home, 
Looking out for the mother that never will come. 

When Pussy had finished, she said, with a smile, 
“ I think I will walk in the garden awhile, 

And there take a nap in some sunshiny spot.” 
Bose laughed to himself as he said, “ I think not !” 


Poor Bose ! you will wish that you ’d never been 
born 

When you bark at that cow with the crumpled 
horn. 

’Way you go, with a toss, high up in the air! 

Do you like it, old Bose ? Is it pleasant up there ? 

And this is the cow, &c. 

Now when this old Molly, so famous in story, 

Left Bose on the ground, all bereft of his glory, 

She walked to the valley as fast as she could, 

Where a dear little maid with a milking-pail 
stood. 

And this is the maiden, &c. 

Alas ! a maiden all forlorn was she, 

Woful and sad, and piteous to see ! 




154 


THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT. 


With weary step she walked, and many a sigh ; 
Her cheek was pale, a tear bedimmed her eye. 
She sat her down, with melancholy air, 



Among the flowers that bloomed so sweetly 
there ; 

And thus, with clasped hands, she made her 
moan. 

“ Ah me ! ” she said. “ Ah me ! I ’m all alone ! 
In all the world are none who care for me ; 

In all the world are none I care to see. 

No one to me a kindly message brings ; 



THE COW WITH THE CRUMPLED HORN. 

Nobody gives me any pretty things. 
Nobody asks me am I sick, or well. 
Nobody listens when I ’ve aught to tell. 


Kind words of love I ’ve never, never known. 

Ah me ! ” she said, “ ’t is sad to be alone ! ” 

Now up jumps the man all tattered and torn, 

And he says to the maiden, “ Don’t sit there, 
forlorn. 

Behind this wild rose-bush I ’ve heard all you 
said, 

And I'll love and protect you, you dear little 
maid ! 

For oft have I hid there, so bashful and shy, 

And peeped through the roses to see you go 
by; 

I know every look of those features so fair, 

I know every curl of your bright golden hair. 

My garments are in bad condition, no doubt ; 

But the love that I give you shall never wear 
out. 

Now I ’ll be the husband if you ’ll be the wife, 

And together we ’ll live without trouble or strife.” 

And this is the man, &c. 



Thought the maid to herself, “ Oh, what beauti- „ 
ful words ! 

Sweeter than music or singing of birds ! 

How pleasant ’t will be thus to live all my life 

With this kind little man, without trouble or 
strife ! 

If his clothes are all tattered and torn, why ’t is 
plain 

What he needs is a wife that can mend them 
again. 

And he brought them to such sorry plight, it 
may be, 

’Mong the thorns of the roses, while watching 
for me ! ” 


And when this wise maiden looked up in his 
face, 

She saw there a look full of sweetness and grace. 
’T was a truth-telling face. “ Yes, I ’ll trust you,” 
said she. 


THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT. 


155 



he; 

“ And since we ’re so happily both of a mind. 
We’ll set off together the priest for to find.” 


Now hand in hand along they pass, 

Tripping it lightly over the grass, 

By pleasant ways, through fields of flowers, 

By shady lanes, through greenwood bowers. 

The bright little leaves they dance in the breeze, 
And the birds sing merrily up in the trees ! 

The maiden smiles as they onward go — 
Forgotten now her longing and woe ; 

And the good little man he does care for her 
so ! 

He cheers the way with his pleasant talk, 

Finds the softest paths where her feet may walk, 
Stays her to rest in the sheltered nook, 

Guides her carefully over the brook, 

Lifts her tenderly over the stile, 

Speaking so cheerily all the while ; 


And plucks the prettiest wild flowers there, 

To deck the curls of her golden hair. 

Says the joyful maid, “ Not a flower that grows 
Is so fair for me as the sweet wild rose /” 

Thus journeying on, by greenwood and dell, 
They came, at last, where the priest did dwell, — 
A jolly fat priest, as I have heard tell : 

A jolly fat priest, all shaven and shorn, 

With a long black cassock so jauntily worn. 

And this is the priest, &c. 

“ Good morrow, Sir Priest ! will you marry us 
two ? ” 

“ That I will,” said the priest, “ if ye ’re both lov- 
ers true ! 

But when, little man, shall your wedding-day 
be?” 

“ To-morrow, good priest, if you can agree, 

At the sweet hour of sunrise, when the new 
day 

Is rosy and fresh in its morning array, 



THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT. 


156 


When flowers are awaking, and birds full of glee, 
At the top of the morning our wedding shall be ! 
And since friends we have none, for this wedding 
of ours 

No guests shall there be, save the birds and the 
flowers ; 


Next morning, while sleeping his sweetest sleep, 
The priest was aroused from his slumbers deep 
By the clarion voice of chanticleer, 

Sudden and shrill, from the apple-tree near. 
Wake up ! wake up ! ” it seemed to say; 

*' £ Wake up ! wake up ! there ’s a wedding to-day ! ” 



And we’ll stand out among them, in sight of 
them all, 

Where the pink and white blooms of the apple- 
tree fall.” 

“ Od zooks ! ” cried the priest, “ what a wedding 
we ’ll see 

To-morrow, at sun-rising, under the tree ! ” 


And this was the cock that crowed in the morn, 
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn, 

That married the man all tattered and torn, 

That kissed the maiden all forlorn, 

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, 
That tossed the dog, that worried the cat, that 
caught the rat, that ate the corn that lay in 
the house that Jack built. 


* 


GOING TO THE SEA-SHORE. 


1 57 


i/2 




(^5' a**** 


MVi 




GOING TO THE SEA-SHORE. 


By E. F. n. 


0 little pebbles down by the sea ! 

1 wonder if you are waiting for me ? 

Shining and dancing in the warm light, 

Washed by the waves, and looking so bright. 

Dear little pebbles, white as the snow, 

I ’ll tell you something perhaps you don’t know : 

The summer is coming, and so are we, 

For papa says we may go to the sea. 

Then, pretty pebbles, our little bare fefet 
Will kiss you again and again, you ’re so sweet ; 

I know you wont scratch us, you ’re smooth and round. 
Without any “ prickers,” like those on the ground. 

And I ’ll tell you another thing, pebbles so kind : 

I will bring — unless nursey should leave them behind — 

A pail and a shovel ; and what I will do 
Is to dig a big hole for a well — would n’t you ? 

And then when the waves come scampering up, 

’T will be filled to the top like my own silver cup ; 

And we will run down and splash it about, 

Till another big wave, with a laugh and a shout, 

Chases us up till we ’re out of its reach — 

All of us safe, high and dry on the beach. 

Yes, the waves are great fun, but I really must say 
I ’d rather have pebbles when I want to play. 

O summer, do hurry ! O spring, go away ! 

Little flowers, please blossom ! Dear birds, sing your lay ! 
And the sooner you do it, the better for me, 

For the pebbles are waiting, I know, by the sea. 






WHICH IS CAUGHT.' 1 


158 



WHICH IS CAUGHT? 


Which is caught? Mousie or Pussie? Ha! ha! Not Mousie; for Puss 
cannot move without setting him free. It is good to know that the little 
fellow is more frightened than hurt; for cats’ rocking-chairs are very light. 
How vexed Pussie is ! She wishes she had never tried to sit in a rocking- 
chair and be like a grand lady. She cannot sit still much longer ; keep up 
your courage, Mousie, there ’s a chance for you yet ! 


OLD SIMON 


159 


OLD SIMON. 


Old Simon and his boys were glad 
To take the plainest fare: 

They brightened everything they had, 

With gratitude and prayer. 

“Give thanks,” said Simon, “when ye rise, 
Give thanks when day is done.” 

And none than Simon were more wise, 

Or happy, under the sun. 

1 1 








happy day ! 


BUSY SATURDAY. 


1 60 



Tell me, Daisy, ere I go, 

Whether my love is true or no. 

One leaf off: He loves me. What? 
One more leaf, and he loves me not. 


Three leaves: Will he? Four leaves: So, 
He never will love me — oh no, no ! 

I don’t care what a daisy says; 

I ’m sure to get married one of these days ! 


BUSY SATURDAY. 


By Fanny Perciyal. 


What a busy day for little May 
Every Saturday is ! 

There ’s so much to do, enough for two, 

And how she ever can get through 
Is one of the mysteries. 

You’d think she’d desire some help to hire, 
But times are hard, you know, 

And she hardly knows how to get the clothes 
For her two dollies, Lou and Rose — 

Her bank funds are so low. 


The washing comes first, and that ’s the worst — 
The clothes for Rose and Lou ; 

She puts them in tubs, and hard she rubs, 

And with her little fist she scrubs 
Till she thinks that they will do. 

Then she ties a line of stoutest twine 
From the door-knob to a chair; 

Then quickly wrings the tiny things, 

And in a little basket brings, 

And hangs them up with care. 


TAKING COMFORT. 


161 


Now while they dry, her hands must fly, 
And busy her feet must be ; 

First she must make some rolls and cake, 
And put them in her stove to bake, 

For company’s coming to tea. 


Now her clothes are dry, and she must try 
To iron them very soon; 

For there ’s sweeping to do, and mending too, 
And then her children, Rose and Lou, 

She must dress for afternoon. 



And then in haste, no time to waste, 

Her children’s beds she makes; 

Then she must see that the dishes for tea 
Are washed as clean as they can be, 

And with these great pains she takes. 


Should you not think that she would sink 
With so much work to do? 

But, strange to say, throughout the day. 
Many an hour she ’ll find to play, 

And help her mamma too. 



TAKING COMFORT JN ONE’S OWN HOUSE. 


13 


162 


PRETTY LILL OF LITTLETON. 



Pretty Lill of Littleton sauntered through the grass; 

The very birds and butterflies stopped to see her pass; 

All the daisies nodded to the maiden coming by, 

And leaned across the pathway left behind her. 

“Art hurt?” they asked each other. Each gayly laughed, “Not I! 
We bowed too low, but really we don’t mind her. 

To see so fair a maiden pass, has really quite unstrung us: 

But we ’ll straighten up, and ready be when next she comes among us.“ 







JEMIMA BROWN 


163 


JEMIMA BROWN. 

By Laura E. Richards. 


Bring her here, my little Alice — 

Poor Jemima Brown ! 

Make the little cradle ready, 

Softly lay her down. 

Once she lived in ease and comfort, 
Slept on couch of down : 

Now upon the floor she ’s lying — 

Poor Jemima Brown! 

Once she was a lovely dolly, 
Rosy-cheeked and fair 

With her eyes of brightest azure, 

And her golden hair. 

Now, alas ! no hair ’s remaining 
On her poor old crown; 

And the crown itself is broken — 

Poor Jemima Brown ! 

Once her legs were smooth and comely, 
And her nose was straight ; 

And that arm, now hanging lonely, 
Had, methinks, a mate. 


Ah, she was as finely dressed as 
Any doll in town. 

Now she ’s old, forlorn and ragged — 
Poor Jemima Brown ! 

Yet be kind to her, my Alice! 

’T is no fault of hers 
If her willful little mistress 
Other dolls prefers. 

Did she pull her pretty hair out? 

Did she break her crown ? 

Did she tear her arms and legs off? 
Poor Jemima Brown ! 

Little hands that did the mischief, 
You must do your best 
Now to give the poor old dolly 
Comfortable rest. 

So we ’ll make the cradle ready, 

And we ’ll lay her down ; 

And we ’ll ask papa to mend her — 
Poor Jemima Brown! 



‘‘little boy blue, come blow your horn, 

THE SHEEP’S IN THE MEADOW, THE COW'S IN THE CORN ! ” 






164 


THE MOUSE. 


THE MOUSE. 

By Laura E. Richards. 



I ’M only a poor little mouse, ma’am ! 

I live in the wall of your house, ma’am ! 

With a fragment of cheese, and a very few peas, 

I was having a little carouse, ma’am ! 

No mischief at all I intend, ma’am ! 

I hope you will act as my friend, ma’am ! 

If my life you should take, many hearts it would break, 
And the trouble would be without end, ma’am ! 

My wife lives in there in the crack, ma’am ! 

She’s waiting for me to come back, ma’am ! 

She hoped I might find a bit of a rind, 

For the children their dinner do lack, ma’am ! 

’T is hard living there in the wall, ma’am ! 

For plaster and mortar will pall, ma’am, 

On the minds of the young, and when specially hung- 
Ry, upon their poor father they ’ll fall, ma’am ! 

I never was given to strife, ma’am ! 

( Don't look at that terrible knife, ma’am !) 

The noise overhead that disturbs you in bed, 

’T is the rats, I will venture my life, ma’am ! 

In your eyes I see mercy, I ’m sure, ma’am ! 

Oh, there ’s no need to open the door, ma’am ! 

I’ 11 slip through the crack, and I ’ll never come back, 
Oh, I ’ll never come back any more, ma’am ! 


THE PUMP AND THE STAR. 


165 


The Pump and the Star. 


With a hop, skip and jump, 

We went to the pump, 

To fill our kettles with starch ; 

He bade us good-day 
In the pleasantest way, 

With a smile that was winning and arch. 



“ 0 Pump ! ” said I, 
u When you look up on high, 

To gaze on the morning star, 





THE OWL, THE EEL AND THE WARMING-PAN. 


I 66 


Does it make you sad, 

Oh, Pumpy, my lad, 

To think she’s away so far?” 

Said the Pump, “Oh, no, 

F or we ’ve settled it so 

That but little my feelings are tried ; 
For every clear night 
She slides down the moonlight, 

And shines in the trough by my side.” 



The Owl, the Eel and the Warming-pan. 


The owl and the eel and the warming-pan, 
They went to call on the soap-fat man. 

The soap-fat man, he was not within ; 

He ’d gone for a ride on his rolling-pin ; 

So they all came back by the way of the town, 
And turned the meeting-house upside down. 


PUNKYDOODLE AND JOLLAPIN. 

Oh, Pillykin Willykin Winky Wee! 

How does the Emperor take his tea ? 

He takes it with melons, he takes it with milk, 
He takes it with syrup and sassafras silk. 

He takes it without, he takes it within ; 

Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin ! 


PUNKYDOODLE AND JOLLAPIN. 


167 


Oh, Pillykin Willykin Winky Wee ! 

How does the Cardinal take his tea ? 

He takes it in Latin, he takes it in Greek, 

He takes it just seventy times a week. 

He takes it so strong that it makes him grin; 
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapinl 



Oh, Pillykin, Willykin Winky Wee! 

How does the Admiral take his tea? 

He takes it with splices, he takes it with spars, 
He takes it with jokers and jolly jack-tars : 
And he stirs it round with a dolphin’s fin; 
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin ! 

Oh, Pillykin Willykin Winky Wee ! 

How does the President take his tea? 

He takes it in bed, he takes it in school, 

He takes it in Congress against the rule. 

He takes it with brandy, and thinks it no sin ; 
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin ! 


AS GOOD AS A MOTHER 


I 68 



AS GOOD AS A MOTHER. 



LITTLE GUSTAVA. 


169 


LITTLE GUSTAVA. 


By Celia Thaxter. 


Little Gustava sits in the sun, 

Safe in the porch, and the little drops run 
From the icicles under the eaves so fast, 

For the bright spring sun shines warm at last, 
And glad is little Gustava. 

She wears a quaint little scarlet cap, 

And a little green bowl she holds in her lap, 
Filled with bread and milk to the brim, 

And a wreath of marigolds round the rim : 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” laughs little Gustava. 

Up comes her little grey, coaxing cat, 

With her little pink nose, and she mews, 
“ What ’s that ? ” 

Gustava feeds her, — she begs for more ; 

And a little brown hen walks in at the door : 
“ Good-day ! ” cries little Gustava. 

She scatters crumbs for the little brown hen. 
There comes a rush and a flutter, and then 
Down fly her little white doves so sweet, 

With their snowy wings and their crimson feet : 
“Welcome!” cries little Gustava. 


So dainty and eager they pick up the crumbs, — 
But who is this through the doorway comes ? 
Little Scotch terrier, little dog Rags, 

Looks in her face, and his funny tail wags : 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” laughs little Gustava. 

“You want some breakfast, too?” and down 
She sets her bowl on the brick floor brown ; 
And little dog Rags drinks up her milk, 
While she strokes his shaggy locks, like silk. 

“ Dear Rags ! ” says little Gustava. 

Waiting without stood sparrow and crow, 
Cooling their feet in the melting snow : 

“ Won’t you come in, good folk?” she cried. 

But they were too bashful, and stayed outside, 
Though “ Pray come in ! ” cried Gustava. 

So the last she threw them, and knelt on the 
mat 

With doves and biddy and dog and cat. 

And her mother came to the open house-door: 
“ Dear little daughter, I bring you some more, 
My merry little Gustava ! ” 


Kitty and terrier, biddy and doves, 

All things harmless Gustava loves. 

The shy, kind creatures ’tis joy to feed, 
And, oh ! her breakfast is sweet indeed 
To happy little Gustava ! 



7 c 


LITTLE PEERY. 


LITTLE PEERY; OR, WHAT IT CAME TO. 


It was very funny, and I ’ll tell you how it happened. While busy at 
work, I heard a wee little noise, and went to see what it was. After look- 
ing a long while, I saw something like picture No. i. What could it be? 
A period? No, for after getting closer, a little tail peeped out, as you 



No. i. No. 2. No. 3. No. 4. 


see in No. 2. I thought it must be a comma; but, looking again, it was 
like No. 3 — one long tail and two short ones. What do you suppose it 
was ? I looked once more, and — mercy ! One long tail, and one, two, 
three, four, five, six short ones. “Perhaps it’s alive,” 
said little Johnny, and, sure enough, the next minute 
out it popped. What! A cat? Yes, here is its 
picture (No. 5), true to life, and, oh ! so black it might 
have been 
in mourn- 
ing for a whole family. Ethel 



. looked so much like a period 
when she first saw it ; so we all 
called it Peery. Is n’t that a 
queer name ? No. 6. 

Well, Peery had n’t been here long before he crawled into a box like 
the one you see here (No. 6). Did you ever 
hear of such a very funny kitty ? But when he 
fell into the pail (picture No. 7), Johnny burst 
a button off with laughing. You will see in 
No. 8 how Peery looked in getting out of the 
pail, all wet. 

Well, this strange specimen of a cat stayed 
with us all day, and cut up the oddest little 
tricks — rolling on its back, getting under foot, 
playing with Johnny’s ball, and running off 
no. 7 . with mamma’s handkerchief. Once it was lost 





No. 5. 



LITTLE PEERY. 


I7I 


in the work-box ; but when grandma thought it was 
a ball of black yarn, and tried to pick it up, she soon 
found that the ball had claws, and dropped it very 
quickly. And then Peery picked up the real ball 
of yarn, which had rolled on the floor, and scampered 
off into a corner, where he tangled the thread so 
much with his sharp claws, that Johnny had to wind 
it all up again. When it was all wound, Johnny 

began to scold 
and tease him, 
but Peery ran 

away and hid under the book- shelves. 
And he would not come out till 
Johnny tied a string to a little chip 
of wood, and dragged it before 
the shelves. Then Peery suddenly 
jumped out at it, as if it were a mouse. 

When night came, little Peery looked so much like the dark that we 
thought him lost this time, sure enough, until he began meou-meou- 
meouing (No. 9), and walking 
about like the Black Prince, when 
Ethel got it some milk ; and here ’s 
that funny black Peery eating it 
(No. 10). See his tail curled up 
like a letter O. Poor Peery ! he 
ate and ate and ate, growing fatter 
and fatter, until he could hardly see 
out of his eyes. But you never 
could guess where he went to sleep. Why, right in the saucer ! See him ! 

But Peery had an end, and so must my story. He looks so nice and 
comfortable in the saucer, that we will leave him there sound asleep. 



No. 10. 



No. 9. 





1 72 


FAIRY UMBRELLAS. 


Never a night so dark and drear, 
Never a cruel wind so chill, 

But loving hearts can make it clear, 
And find some comfort in it still. 



FAIRY UMBRELLAS. 

By C. A. D. 

Three fairy umbrellas came up to-day, 

Under the pine-tree just over the way ; 

And since we have had a terrible rain, 

The reason they came is made very plain. 

This eve is the fairies’ Midsummer ball, 

And drops from the pine-tree on them may fall ; 

So dainty umbrellas wait for them here, 

And under their shelter they ’ll dance without fear. 

And as you may chance in Summer to meet 
These odd little canopies under your feet, 

Take care where you step, nor crush them, I pray, 
For fear you will frighten the fairies away. 




is n’t it so? 


173 


IS N’T IT SO? 


By M. M. D. 

Hark ! hark ! 0 my children, hark ! 

When the sky has lost its blue 
What do the stars sing, in the dark? 
“We must sparkle, sparkle, through.” 

What do leaves say in the storm, 

Tossed, in whispering heaps, together? 
“We can keep the violets warm 

Till they wake in fairer weather.” 

What do happy birdies say, 

Flitting through the gloomy wood? 

“ We must sing the gloom away — 

Sun or shadow, God is good.” 



AT THE SEA-SIDE. 



174 


MILMY-MELMY 



MILMY-MELMY. 


/ 


MILMY-MELMY. 


*75 



MILMY-MELMY. 

By Rachel Pomeroy. 


Many hundred years ago, 

People say, 

Lived in busy Rhineland 
Giants gay ; 

Folks of mighty stature, 

Made so tall, 

They would hit the sky in walking — 
Stars and all. 

When one stretched him on a mountain 
For a nap, 

Why, the clouds would fit him 
Like a cap ; 

In the valley under 
Sprawled his toes ; 

How he could get out of bed 
No one knows ! 

Did he snore a little loudish 
(Do you wonder) ? 

People only thought it 
Heavy thunder. 

Did he have the nightmare, 
Knock-a-knock ! 

Everybody grimly muttered : 

“ Earthquake shock ! ” 

One of these tremendous fellows, 

I suppose, 

Could have hung your father 
On his nose. 

Half a score like you, sir, 

(Don’t look pale !) 

Might have straddled see-saw 
His thumb-nail. 


He ’d have been a crony 
Worth the knowing! 

For they were the kindest 
Creatures going. 

So good-natured, somehow, 

In their ways : 

Not a bit like naughty giants 
Now-a-days. 

Well, the biggest one among ’em. 

So they tell me, 

Had a pretty daughter — 
Milmy-Melmy ; 

Ten years old precisely — 

To a T; 

Stout enough to make a meal of 
You and me. 

On her birthday, Milmy-Melmy, 

All alone, 

Started on a ramble — 

Unbeknown. 

Left her toys behind her 
For a run ; — • 

Big as elephants and camels, 

Every one. 

Through the country, hill and valley, 
Went she fast ; 

Willows bent to watch her 
As she passed ; 

Hemlock slender, poplar 
Straight and high, 

Brushed their tops against her fingers. 
Tripping by. 


176 


MILMY-MELMY. 


Half a mile to every minute — 

Like enough, 

Though she found the going 
Rather rough ; 

Men folk, glancing at her, 

Cried aloud : 

“We shall have a shower shortly — 

See the cloud ! ” 

Milmy-Melmy thought it rather 
Jolly play 

Nurse to leave behind, and 
Run away ; 

In her life (imagine 
If you can) 

She had never seen a woman, 

Or a man. 

Three times thirty leagues of trudging 
(Listen now) 

Brought her to a plowman 
At his plow; 

Getting rather tired, 

Stubbed her toe ; 

Stooped to see what sort of pebble 
Hurt her so. 

Picking up the plow and plowman, 
Oxen, too, 

Milmy-Melmy stared at 
Something new ! 

Stuck them in her girdle, 

Clapped her hands 

Till the mountain echoes answered 
Through the lands. 

“ Here ’s a better birthday present,” 
Shouted she, 

“ Than the leather dollies 
Made for me. 

These are living playthings — 

Very queer; 

La ! the cunning little carriage — 
What a dear ! ” 


So into her apron, tying 
The new toy, 

Off she hurried homeward 
Full of joy ; 

Stood it on a table 
In the hall ; , 

Ran to bring her father to it, 

Told him all. 

“ Milmy-Melmy,” cried the giant, 

“ What a -shame ! 

You must take the plaything 
Whence it came. 

These are useful workers, 

Daughter mine, 

Getting food for human beings, — 

Corn and wine. 

“ Never meddle with such tiny 
Folks again; 

Only ugly giants love to 
Trouble men.” 

Milmy-Melmy pouted 
(’T was n’t nice), 

But she carried back the playthings 
In a trice. 

When she ’d made her second journey, 
Little sinner 

Really felt too tired 
For her dinner 

So to bed they put her, 

Right away, 

And she had her birthday pudding 
The next day. 

What the plowman did about it, 

Mercy knows ! 

Must have thought it funny, 

I suppose. 

If you want a moral, 

Ask a fly 

What he thinks of giants such as 
You and I ! 



TOTTY S ARITHMETIC 


1 77 


TOTTY’S ARITHMETIC. 

By E. S. F. 


One little head, worth its whole weight in gold, 
Over and over a million times told. 

Two shining eyes, full of innocent glee, 

Brighter than diamonds ever could be. 

Three pretty dimples, for fun to slip in, 

Two in the cheeks and one in the chin. 

Four lily fingers on each baby-hand, 

Fit for a princess of sweet Fairy- land. 

Five on each hand, if we reckon Tom Thumb, 
Standing beside them, so stiff and so glum ! 


Six pearly teeth just within her red lips, 
Over which merriment ripples and trips. 

Seven bright ringlets, as yellow as gold, 
Seeming the sunshine to gather and hold. 

Eight tiny waves running over her hair, 
Sunshine and shadow, they love to be there. 

Nine precious words that Totty can say; 

But she will learn new ones every day. 

Ten little chubby, comical toes; 

And that is as far as this lesson goes. 


THE SLEEPING BLOODHOUND. 



(From a painting by Sir Edwin Landseer.) 




TWO LITTLE GIRLS ARE BETTER THAN ONE 


1 78 


wo little girls are better than one, 

Two little boys can double the fun. 

Two little birds can build a fine nest, 

Two little arms can love mother best. 

Two little ponies must go to a span; 

Two little pockets has my little man, 

Two little eyes to open and close, 

Two little ears and one little nose, 

Two little elbows, dimpled and sweet, 

Two little shoes on two little feet, 

Two little lips and one little chin, 

Two little cheeks with a rose shut in; 

Two little shoulders, chubby and strong, 

Two little legs running all day long. 

Two little prayers does my darling say, 
Twice does he kneel by my side each day — 
Two little folded hands, soft and brown, 

Two little eyelids cast meekly down — 

And two little angels guard him in bed, 

“ One at the foot, and one at the head.’' 




“how much did you get for a penny?" 



CHERRY-CHEEK 


179 



CHERRY-CHEEK 


By Anna Boynton Averill. 


“ COME, Cherry-cheek,” called mamma, 
“ Leave snow-fort, rink, and sled ! 

The hills are tinted with mellow pink, 
The sun is going to bed. 

In our cosey supper- room 
I ’ve drawn the curtains red, 

And the firelight leapeth on the wall ; 
Come, Cherry-cheek,” she said. 


And slowly up the steep 
His tiny sled he drew. 

The whole round heavens were soft and calm, 
With not a cloud in view; 

And afar on the edge of the world 
One little silver spark 

Came out alone in a great wide place, 

And waited for the dark. 

And he heard, in the frosty air 
Of the dying Winter day, 

His father’s coming sleigh-bells chime 
A half-a-mile away; 

A happy little boy, — 

And something made him say, 

“ Dear God ! what a beautiful world you ’ve made ! 
I am glad I was good to-day ! ” 



i8o 


THE LITTLE GIRL WHO WOULD n’t SAY PLEASE. 


THE LITTLE GIRL WHO WOULD N’T SAY PLEASE. 


By M. S. P. 



There was once a small child who would never say please, 
I believe, if you even went down on your knees. 

But, her arms on the table, would sit at her ease, 

And call out to her mother in words such as these : 

“I want some potatoes!” “Give me some peas!” 

“Hand me the butter!” “Cut me some cheese!” 

So the fairies, this very rude daughter to tease, 

Once blew her away in a powerful breeze, 

Over the mountains, and over the seas, 

To a valley where never a dinner she sees, 

But down with the ants, the wasps, and the bees, 

In the woods she must live till she learns to say please. 


THE TRIO. 


181 


Two little birds once met in a tree, 

One said, “I ’ll love you if you will love me.” 
The other agreed, and they built them a nest, 

And began to keep house with very great zest. 
They lived there all summer, and then flew away; 
And where they are now I really can’t say. 


THE TRIO. 


By Mary A. Lathbury. 



Nannie Clover ! Nannie Clover ! 

Mind the leaf to turn it over. 

Don’t be careless, Billy, don’t ! 

You can sing well, but you wont. 

Don’t keep time with all your feet ; 

Softer, mind ! when you repeat. 

Ready now ! and let it ring, 

One, — two, — three, — sing : 

“ Mary had a little lamb, 

Mary had a little lamb, 

Mary had a little 1-a-a-mb, 

Its fleece was white as snow, 

And everywhere that Mary went, 

And everywhere that Mary went, 

And everywhere that Mary we-ent, 

The lamb was sure to go.” 


Silly creatures, what a bother ! 
Making eyes at one another. 

Mind your notes, and look at me , — 
I ’m the leader, don’t you see ? 
Faster, Billy ! Louder, Nan ! 

Wake the echoes if you can. 

Let us make this trio ring, — 

One, — two, — three, — sing : 

“ Bah ! bah ! black sheep, 

Got any wool ? 

O yes ! master, 

Three bags full : 

One for the master, 

One for the dame, 

And one for the little boy 
That cries in the lane.” 


182 


MAKE - BELIEVE. 


MAKE-BELIEVE. 

By S. S. H. 


“We’ll play it’s Christmas, Bessie, 
And we ’ll have a Christmas tree, 
And when it ’s all, all ready, 

We’ll call Mamma to see. 


“ ’T was just to s’prise us, Bessie, 
And, now, wont it be fun 
To make Mamma a Christmas tree, 
And call her, when it ’s done ! ” 



Then Amy stuck the duster-brush 
Through the cane seat of a chair. 

And she and Bessie went to work — 
A merry little pair. 

They hung its drooping branches 
As full as they could hold; 

Trimmed them with motto-papers, 
Yellow and green and gold. 

With many a gleeful whisper, 

And many a cautious “hush!” 

Did Bess and Amy make it gay — 
That pretty duster-brush. 

“Oh! oh!” cried Amy, at the last; 

“I never did! Did you? 

Just see the sp’endid little things, 
And gold a-shinin’ through ! 

“ We have n’t any candles, 

But we ’ll play the whole day-light 

Is ’cause there ’s lots of candles 
All lit, and burning bright. 


“Don’t you remember Christmas? 
That was the way, you know, — 
We could n’t see a single thing, 
And we did want to so ! 


“ Let ’s call Mamma now, Bessie ; 
And, oh ! how s’prised she ’ll be 
To see we ’ve got a Christmas, 

And made a Christmas tree ! ” 


A NEW REGULATION. 


If the police were elephants, 

Perhaps we ’d have less noise ; 

’T would be so easy for them then 
To “take up” little boys. 

The little truants all about 

Would quickly know their rule; 
They’d pack each fellow in their trunks, 
And take him back to school. 




MARCH. 


183 


LITTLE JOHNNY AND THE MOSQUITO. 



MARCH. 


In the snowing and the blowing, 

In the cruel sleet, — 

Little flowers begin their growing 
Far beneath our feet. 

Softly taps the Spring, and cheerily, — 
“Darlings, are you here?” 

Till they answer : “We are nearly, 
Nearly ready, dear.” 

“ Where is Winter, with his snowing? 
Tell us Spring,” they say ; 

Then she answers : “ He is going, 
Going on his way. 

Poor old Winter does not love you, — 
But his time is past ; 

Soon my birds shall sing above you, — 
Set you free at last ! ” 




184 


THE RABBIT ON THE WALL 


t 


AN AUTUMN JINGLE. 


I KNOW a little creature, 

In a green bed, 

With the softest wrappings 
All around her head. 


When she grows old, 

She is hard and can’t feel ; 
So they take her to the mill, 
And make her into meal. 



THE RABBIT ON THE WALL. 


MISTRESS MARY, QUITE CONTRARY 


185 



Mistress Mary, quite contrary, 
How does your garden grow? 


With silver bells and cockle shells, 
And maidens all a row. 

MOTHER GOOSE. 



Five little bald-heads in a green house, — 

House and heads together, smaller than a mouse; 
Cook opens the door, and out out they all run: 

“ Bless us!” they say, “now, isn’t this fun?” 




OUR DOGS. 


186 


OUR DOGS. 

By S. S. Colt. 



“7 AM the Greyhound, so slim, you know; 

I came from Asia long, long ago. 

In Turkey, I ’m called the ‘ dog of the street;’ 
In Ireland, I the wolf can beat ; 

In Italy, I am a lady’s pet ; 

All over the world my race is met.” 



U 


Shaggy, and gaunt, a Deerhound am 7, 
Chasing the deer with death in my eye. 
Swift, steady and sure, I follow the trail ; 

I never tire and I never fail. 

To the stately stag no mercy I show, 

And little of friendship with man I know. 





“I am the Bloodhound, and man is my game 
As the Sleuth-hound of old I won my fame. 
’Twixt England and Scotland I helped keep 
order, 

And many a thief have chased o’er the border. 
I am known afar by my deep-toned bay, 

And my terrible race is passing away.” 


“7 was born in the Kingdom of Snow; 

For my mistress deathless love I show. 

I ’m wayward, and will bark evermore, 
When friend or foe knocks at the door. 
There ’s fire and love in my soft, black eye, 
The white and shaggy Spitz-dog am I.” 




“Behold me here — of the Bull-dog race, 

With short, strong jaws and a surly face. 
The mighty bull I venture to fight ; 

And even the lion dreads my bite. 

But, as a breed, we ’re not very wise, 

And not much soul looks out of our eyes.” 


“7 am the Newfoundland, trusty and bold ; 

I love the water, and do as I’m told. 

I am sometimes rough in my bounding play ; 
Please to excuse it — ’t is only my way. 

And many a life I ’ve been known to save 
From the cruel depth of the treach’rous wave.” 



OUR DOGS. 


I8 7 


“ The Spaniel am /, — in Spain I was found, 
But in every land I have been renowned. 

I am always faith/ul, docile and wise ; 

I have silken hair and beautiful eyes. 

You may treat me well, or treat me ill, 

While I live, and you live, I ’ll love you still.” 




“Black and Tan Terrier! Yes, I am one, 
Bold, handsome and faithful — brimful of fun ! 
A hundred rats lie slain in a day ; 

From earth-retreats I drive out my prey: 
And so it happens, from terra , ‘earth,’ 

(An old Latin word), my name has birth.” 




‘ ‘ / am the Mastiff — a watch-dog true ; 

Many a noble deed I do. 

In England I ’m yellow, — in Europe, white, 
And my bay sounds far through the silent night. 
I ’ve fought the lion, and conquered the bear ; 
My friends I protect — let my foes beware.” 


“My name is Barry, of the St. Bernard; 

When the snows drift deep and the wind blows 
hard, 

You may hear my bark, and see me flying, 
To guide the lost and rescue the dying! 
Although I wear no collar of gold, 

All over the world my praise is told.” 



“I, the Irish Wolf-dog, next appear, 

With my pointed nose and ears so queer. 

I guard the meek sheep by hills and vales, 
And keep them safe when the wolf assails ; 
As much as the shepherd’s dog I know, 
And I’m stronger far to fight the foe.” 


“I am the Dog of the Esquimaux, — 

I drag their sledges over the snow; 

I can run and leap — I laugh at the cold ; 

I ’m kind and true, and I ’m strong and bold. 
In ice-bound huts with my masters I dwell; 

I toil for them, and they love me well.” 



NIKOLINA. 


188 


NIKOLINA. 


By Celia Thaxter. 


O TELL me, little children, have you seen her — 
The tiny maid from Norway, Nikolina? 

O, her eyes are blue as corn-flowers ’mid the corn, 
And her cheeks are rosy red as skies of morn ! 

O buy the baby’s blossoms if you meet her, 

And stay with gentle words and looks to greet her 
She ’ll gaze at you and smile and clasp your hand, 
But, no word of your speech can understand. 



Nikolina ! Swift she turns if any call her, 

As she stands among the poppies hardly taller, 
Breaking off their scarlet cups for you, 

With spikes of slender larkspur, burning blue. 

In her little garden many a flower is growing — 
Red, gold, and purple in the soft wind blowing; 
But the child that stands amid the blossoms gay 
Is sweeter, quainter, brighter even than they. 

O tell me, little children, have you seen her — • 
This baby girl from Norway, Nikolina? 

Slowly she ’s learning English words, to try 
And thank you if her flowers you come to buy. 



A LULLABY. 


189 



A LULLABY. 


By J. G. Holland. 





Rockaby, lullaby, bees in the clover !— 
Crooning so drowsily, crying so low — 
Rockaby, lullaby, dear little rover ! 

Down into wonderland — 

Down to the under- land — 

Go, oh go ! 

Down into wonderland go ! 

Rockaby, lullaby, rain on the clover ! — 

T ears on the eyelids that waver and weep ; 
Rockaby, lullaby, bending it over 
Down on the mother-world, 

Down on the other world ! 

Sleep, oh sleep ! 

Down on the mother-world sleep ! 

Rockaby, lullaby, dew on the clover ! 

Dew on the eyes that will sparkle at dawn ! 
Rockaby, lullaby, dear little rover ! 

Into the stilly world — 

Into the lily- wo rid 
Gone, oh gone ! 

Into the lily-world, gone ! 


MUSIC 


190 


SI PPITY SUP. 

Words by “Alba.”* Music by F. Boott. 


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Words by Mks. M. M. Dodge. 


BYE, BABY, BYE! 


Music by Hubert P. Main. 


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MUSIC. 




COMMENTS ON ST. NICHOLAS, 

From the “Little Folks Department” of which, Baby Days has been compiled. 


“ St. Nicholas, the best of all children’s magazines,” 
— London Spectator. 

“We wish we could point out its equal in our own 
periodical literature.” — London Daily News. 

“St. Nicholas is the King of all publications 
issued for the young on either side of the Atlantic.” — 
Southampton (Eng.) Obsetver. 

“ It is not too much to say that it is the very best 
magazine of its kind with which we are acquainted.” — 
John Bull, London. 

“St. Nicholas is the children’s magazine par 
excellence. No present could be given to a child more 
acceptable than a subscription to St. Nicholas.” — 
Royal Gazette, St. John’s, N. F. 

“There is a perpetual fund of humor in St. Nich- 
olas ; some of the comic illustrated verses are inimi- 
table.” — London Court Circular. 

“We can recommend St. Nicholas for honesty of 
purpose and sound moral teaching. ” — London European 
Mail. 

“St. Nicholas is in every respect admirable; its 
literary contents are of a high class, and the illustrations 
reach a standard seldom equaled in magazines.” — 
Liverpool Daily Courier. 

“St. Nicholas is, without doubt, unequaled in 
every department. No English magazine can equal it 
in illustrations, neither can any English magazine 
approach it in real humor or originality.” — Mercury 
(Eng.) Derby. 

“There is no magazine for the young that can be 
said to equal this choice production of Scribner’s 
press. All the articles are throbbing with vitality. ” — 
London Literary World. 

“ In the avalanche of immoral literature that threatens 
the children, some strong, vitally wholesome, and really 
attractive magazine is required for them, and St. Nich- 
olas has reached a higher platform, and commands for 
this service wider resources in art and letters than any 
of its predecessors or contemporaries.” — New-York 
Tribune. 

“ St. Nicholas is full of the choicest things. The 
publication is, in all respects, the best of its kind. We 
have never yet seen a number that was not surprisingly 
good.” — The Churchman. 

“ Picture to yourself what a magazine for children 
ought to be ; how bright and winning in contents, how 
pure and stimulating in teaching, how resplendent with 
pictures, and then turn over the pages of St. Nicholas 
and find your ideal realized.” — Boston Journal. 

“ The most charming magazine for children that is 
published in the United States, or in any country.” — 
Lnter-Ocean, Chicago. 

“ We have seen many a ruined family and many a 
bright youth, whose troubles have arisen altogether 
from the kind of literature which was stealthily intro- 
duced into the bouse. * * What is the remedy ? We 

say not by debarring the child from all that might 
naturally interest it, but by providing with great care 
and discretion, matter which would at once attract the 
attention, entertain and instruct. The St. Nicholas 
Magazine , beyond everything that we know of this 
sort, while it is most eagerly sought by children every- 
where, is free from all the faults which we deprecate. 
It is under the editorship of one with rare endowments. 
Mothers, therefore, who best know the special wants 
and cravings of childhood, and whose interest in 
children is deepest, cannot make a mistake if they 
encourage a magazine beautifully illustrated, carefully 
edited, and sustaining the highest moral standard.” — 
Episcopal Register. 


“ St. Nicholas is a source of delight to all boys 
and girls, while older people, into whose sight it comes, 
will find it difficult to keep their hands off it.” — Meth- 
odist, New-York. 

“ It is a delightful magazine for all children between 
five and eighty-five.” — Christian Union. 

“This unrivaled magazine (St. Nicholas ), for young 
folks of both sexes, has been so highly praised by us 
hitherto, that we can hardly find words to characterize 
the perfection it has attained. Its pages are pure as 
crystal, full of refining and educating influences, and 
yet as fascinating as fairy lore from beginning to end. 
The ablest minds in the world contribute to the 
entertainment of the young through its columns, and the 
masters of art are engaged in producing its charming 
illustrations.” — Bangor (hie.) Whig and Courier. 

“ The aim of the publishers to make this (St. Nicholas ) 
an ideal children’s magazine is pretty nearly being 
realized. ’ ’ — Pacific Churchman. 

“ Mary Mapes Dodge has made it so bright, so 
entertaining, and, withal, so instructive, that there is no 
reason to wonder at its popularity.” — N. Y. Express. 

“As for St. Nicholas, it is but simple truth to say 
that it is the prince of publications (facile princeps ) for 
the young. No other approaches it.” — Piedmont Vir- 
ginian. 

“ St. Nicholas ought to be a regular visitor in every 
home where there are children to be protected from 
corrupt and corrupting literature, and educated into 
correct literary taste.” — The Literary World. 

“ Incomparably the best magazine for children in the 
world.” — The Golden Rule. 

“ We thought the first number was nearly perfect, 
but it has been going on to perfection ever since.” — 
The Advance. 

“ St. Nicholas is the very best magazine for young 
people that I have ever seen.” — Dr. R. Shelton Mac- 
kenzie, the Literary Editor of the Philadelphia Press. 

“ I am ready to say that a cleaner, purer, more trust- 
worthy periodical for children cannot be named.” — ■ 
Rev. C. S. Robinson, D. D. , in the Sunday School Titnes. 

“ It is little to say of this magazine that it is the best 
child’s periodical in the world.” — John G. Whittier. 

“ It surpasses any Children’s Year-Book, English or 
American, that I have ever seen.” ***** 

Edmund C. Stedman. 

“ If there is one thing we do envy the youngsters in, 
it is St. Nicholas.” — The Chicago Lnter-Ocean. 

“St. Nicholas stands at the head.” — Baptist 
Teacher. 

“ It easily leads the world of children’s literature. 

* * * And we think how efficient a thing in our 

civilization such a magazine would be if it came to the 
majority of the children in this country.” — Hartford 
Courant. 

“ In all the history of American periodicals for youth 
none has equaled St. Nicholas in merit and elegance.” 

— Boston Globe. 

“ It is really astonishing for its beauty, excellence and 
cheapness. It is singular that it can be published at 
its low subscription price, but we suppose that the 
intelligence of the country is so great as to create an 
immense demand, which enables the publishers to ' 
constantly increase the attractions of this delightful® 
periodical.” — Philadelphia Record. Qa 





















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